GISHWHES: Thursday (cont.)
There were no fake snakes anywhere in the city. It had been verified.
I seemed to remember lots of fake snakes existing when I was a child. We had the giant stuffed snakes, the wooden jointed snakes that we got at the zoo, and the hyper-realistic plastic snakes that my mom put in the joints of the roof to keep the birds from nesting there. I didn’t expect finding a fake snake to be so difficult. A live one, maybe. But fake?
Elise was glancing at her phone while she drove. “Anna doesn’t know anyone who owns a snake either,” she said. I love Elise. Besides driving me around to various stores looking for fake snakes, she was bothering everyone in her address book to try to find me a live one.
I shuffled my feet in their gourds. They needed more duct tape.
Then Elise’s phone pinged again.
“Snake?” I asked.
“No,” said Elise, “I told this guy Dylan I’d have coffee with him, but I’ll have to postpone so I can get this video of you jogging in gourd-shoes.”
“Is GISHWHES forcing you to play hard-to-get?” I said.
“Not like that,” said Elise, “He’s just an old friend I haven’t seen in a while.”
We drove in silence for a while. As we neared the Memorial Union parking lot, I prepared myself to jog across the quad wearing a spaghetti squash on one foot and a butternut squash on the other.
“WAIT!” Elise gasped suddenly, “Dylan has a snake! I’m almost positive that Dylan has a snake!”
I gaped. “You mean the guy you just blew off?”
“Text him!” said Elise, handing me her phone.
“I don’t know him!” I sputtered, “You text him!”
“I’m driving!” she replied.
I did my best to sound like Elise as I composed my text:
Do you have a snake? My friend is doing a scavenger hunt. She needs a picture of herself holding a snake at a bus stop. It’s supposed to be a Eve and the serpent thing. She’ll be wearing fig leaves…
I read through the text as Elise parked the car. I handed her the phone and she read it, too. She started laughing.
“On second thought,” I said, “Maybe you should call him.”
Item 70 conclusion
I seemed to remember lots of fake snakes existing when I was a child. We had the giant stuffed snakes, the wooden jointed snakes that we got at the zoo, and the hyper-realistic plastic snakes that my mom put in the joints of the roof to keep the birds from nesting there. I didn’t expect finding a fake snake to be so difficult. A live one, maybe. But fake?
Elise was glancing at her phone while she drove. “Anna doesn’t know anyone who owns a snake either,” she said. I love Elise. Besides driving me around to various stores looking for fake snakes, she was bothering everyone in her address book to try to find me a live one.
I shuffled my feet in their gourds. They needed more duct tape.
Then Elise’s phone pinged again.
“Snake?” I asked.
“No,” said Elise, “I told this guy Dylan I’d have coffee with him, but I’ll have to postpone so I can get this video of you jogging in gourd-shoes.”
“Is GISHWHES forcing you to play hard-to-get?” I said.
“Not like that,” said Elise, “He’s just an old friend I haven’t seen in a while.”
We drove in silence for a while. As we neared the Memorial Union parking lot, I prepared myself to jog across the quad wearing a spaghetti squash on one foot and a butternut squash on the other.
“WAIT!” Elise gasped suddenly, “Dylan has a snake! I’m almost positive that Dylan has a snake!”
I gaped. “You mean the guy you just blew off?”
“Text him!” said Elise, handing me her phone.
“I don’t know him!” I sputtered, “You text him!”
“I’m driving!” she replied.
I did my best to sound like Elise as I composed my text:
Do you have a snake? My friend is doing a scavenger hunt. She needs a picture of herself holding a snake at a bus stop. It’s supposed to be a Eve and the serpent thing. She’ll be wearing fig leaves…
I read through the text as Elise parked the car. I handed her the phone and she read it, too. She started laughing.
“On second thought,” I said, “Maybe you should call him.”
Item 70 conclusion