Thanks, Von. Yeah, that was one freakin' Southwestern Gothic way for my daddy to die, wasn't it? He had some property way the hell out in the desert (an asbestos mine, of all the freaky things). He didn't do anything with it--his father had purchased it--but my dad had to inspect the property once a year to retain the claim on it. He and my uncle Don and my half-bro Dave went out to the mine one day. While they were there, a big whoppin' Mojave rattlesnake went slithering by.
My dad was a herpitologist as well as a surgeon, and he had this weird compulsion to collect dangerous animals. He and my mom had quite the collection of dreadful venomous things at home. He decided he wanted to catch this snake because it was a big ol' guy, but he didn't have any of his actual snake-catching equipment with him. Instead he pinned its head down with a forked stick, and was reaching down to grab it when the stick broke and the critter whipped around and bit him between the thumb and forefinger. By the time they got him back to town, the neurotoxins had all but done him in. He was in an iron lung when my mom came to the hospital to see him. He had time to say "I'll never do that again!" before he died.
That was late August. I was born in early October.
I wish I had known the guy. He sounded like a kick in the pants. On the other hand, what a freakin' dumbass thing to do when you know you have a wife and almost-baby waiting at home for you. I used to be really mad at him when I was younger, for not letting me have a dad growing up. Now when I think about him, I mostly just feel so sad for my mom. That must have been absolutely horrible for her.
And what's the moral of the story? Even really smart people sometimes do really, REALLY stupid things!
And that's also why none of my pets are venomous. Although I think Jack occasionally emits poison gas from his posterior.
My dad was a herpitologist as well as a surgeon, and he had this weird compulsion to collect dangerous animals. He and my mom had quite the collection of dreadful venomous things at home. He decided he wanted to catch this snake because it was a big ol' guy, but he didn't have any of his actual snake-catching equipment with him. Instead he pinned its head down with a forked stick, and was reaching down to grab it when the stick broke and the critter whipped around and bit him between the thumb and forefinger. By the time they got him back to town, the neurotoxins had all but done him in. He was in an iron lung when my mom came to the hospital to see him. He had time to say "I'll never do that again!" before he died.
That was late August. I was born in early October.
I wish I had known the guy. He sounded like a kick in the pants. On the other hand, what a freakin' dumbass thing to do when you know you have a wife and almost-baby waiting at home for you. I used to be really mad at him when I was younger, for not letting me have a dad growing up. Now when I think about him, I mostly just feel so sad for my mom. That must have been absolutely horrible for her.
And what's the moral of the story? Even really smart people sometimes do really, REALLY stupid things!
And that's also why none of my pets are venomous. Although I think Jack occasionally emits poison gas from his posterior.
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