Surrender, Dorothy

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The Snake Is Why I'm Not in Eden

The snake is why I'm not in Eden anymore, and I don't need it walking around my neighborhood.

This weekend there was this guy walking around with two huge constrictors wrapped around his arms.  He was also holding a beer. 

Me:  "Hey, what kind of snakes are those?"

Snake Man:  "A boa constrictor and a python."

Me:  "Don't you have to restrain them in some fashion?"  (Here I looked pointedly down at my delicious little angel.)

Snake Man:  (shrugging shoulders and taking a gulp of beer):  "I don't think so."

So I thought about it all weekend.  Today, I shared this story with my co-workers at lunch.

M:  "Well what're you going to do, put it on a leash?"

Me:  "Well, I think a snake should be restrained in some fashion."

M: "Do you also think the snake should have to wear little sweaters in the winter?"

We argued about it all through lunch until finally we made a bet.  I bet that it was illegal just to carry snakes around, and he bet that the Animal Control department would laugh at me if I asked.  So I called them.

It turns out that you can have some pretty strange pets in Kansas City, Missouri, though nothing omnivorous or carnivorous that also happens to be a mammal. Oh, and no venomous snakes.  Constrictors, however, are A-OK with the City of Fountains. I did have a lengthy conversation with the animal-control guy, who said that when constrictors were more popular in the nineties, people used to take them to bars.  One guy came home from the bar, wasted, and fell asleep.  The snake apparently constricted around his neck and nearly killed him.  Apparently, there's also another woman who lives at 47th and Euclid who has crocodiles.  As in plural - more than one crocodile.  The only comment the animal-control guy had on that was "I bet she doesn't get robbed much."

As I continued arguing that maybe carrying a large python was more dangerous than carrying a beer (he argued I should call the police to come get him for open-container "which is against the law," though apparently "handling a four-inch thick reptile who wants to squeeze the lifeblood out of Little Bunny Foo Foo" is JUST FINE), he said I should call the police the next time I saw him drinking in public.  As I was about to hang up in disgust, he gave me the number of a local herpetologist, for whom I left a voice mail.  Hopefully he'll call me back.  I will have revenge on the Snake Guy.