Chickens in the Basement

I love to write and I love to laugh. When I write, I get to the point quick. My stories would fit on the back of a postcard. They usually make me chuckle. And you know what they say, "It's all about me!"

Saturday, April 4, 2009


While moving a small piece of liriope out to a garden bed in the yard, I stumbled across the snake I saw yesterday. Sadly, when he was looking up at me from the ground, he was telling me that I had run him over with the lawn mower. It seems I exaggerated a little in my post yesterday. He was probably no wider than a pencil and maybe 12 inches long. However, parts of him were missing. I think he shrank in death, sort of like the Wicked Witch of the West when a bucket of soapy water was thrown on her. Riding lawn mowers have that effect on snakes!

1 comment:

Stacey said...

A good snake is a dead snake. You'll hear no touting of the importance of the creatures from me. There's a reason the snake was Satan. 'Nuf said.