Sssssssssnake!

I saw a snake this morning when I was mowing the grass.

It was a grass snake big, mean, horrible black and red and pink and neon yellow snake with dripping fangs, bloodless gaping eyes and it was 20 feet long and could leap tall building with a single bound.

Except that it was a grass snake, a blue grass snake. (if that's not a grass snake don't tell me I don't want to hear fingersinmyearslalalalalalalalalalalala)

Let's get something clear: I. HATE. SNAKES.

HATE

I don't care what size, shape, color or type they are; I am an equal opportunity snake-hater. 

That slimy, vile thing slithered out from the grass as I was making an early pass on the jungle that is was my back yard (Note to self: don't go 10 days without mowing the St. Augustine grass during a Texas July). I hightailed it out of there, spending a lot of time cutting the other side of the yard while giving that #$%%^&  God's creature a chance to beat a hasty retreat under the wooden fence to the yard next door. 
He didn't do it.

He was there, taunting me, as I made my next pass. 

I studiously avoided him. I didn't want to get too close, or as a friend says, "poke the snake." Quite literally in this case. 

But he wouldn't move. He wouldn't just slither away into the tall grass next door. 

So I was forced to take matters into my own hands. Because you see, it's NOT ACCEPTABLE for a snake to be living in my back yard. 

I wonder if snakes make good fertilizer?

I guess we'll find out.