6 p.m.

So, I caught a rattlesnake with my bare hands. Now what?

Sure, I looked pretty cool when I grabbed the snake with my Steve Erwin-esque aplomb, but now that everyone stopped clapping I’m not sure what to do with it. At least it was totally worth it. I could tell everyone on the camping trip was really impressed by the way they said, “Wow, I’m impressed,” and, “Please stop!”

I’m pretty sure I heard more people saying, “please stop,” than, “wow, I’m impressed,” but that’s just jealousy, which can be more venomous than the quivering fangs of the snake in my hand. It goes to show you that the corporate world can be even more savage than nature, especially these goons. To think, they almost didn’t let me come, but if temps weren’t supposed to come to the company camping trip, then who would have caught the snake?

Now they’re just staring at me waiting for me to do something with it. Eager to see what their hero will do next.

I refuse to kill the snake, on moral grounds, plus it would be super gross. It’s not like I can just let it go either. I need a stick or something to hold its head down so it doesn’t bite me, but there aren’t any good ones around here. I mean, there are plenty of sticks (which John keeps mentioning because he’s a total ass), but not any cool ones. I knew I should have bought one of those $30 walking sticks from the park gift shop. Remind me to rub that in everyone’s faces.

We don’t have any bags we can drop it in either. Though it’d probably still bite me if I tried since I’m really slow and bad at dropping things in bags. That’s why I never give out candy on Halloween. Well, that and my roommate’s a registered sex offender.

A sleeping bag would work, but none of them want to use theirs after what happened yesterday. I put the snake I caught yesterday in John’s bag for safe keeping. I always say it’s better to be safe than sorry, although everyone else said, “You didn’t need to do that. The snake was miles from our campsite.”

Now we can’t get it out of the bag. It’s like it wants to be in there, which makes sense since John’s sleeping bag was really nice.

It’s a shame that we used his. That’s what he kept saying.

It’s funny how I had the same problem yesterday, except yesterday I at least had John’s sleeping bag. I don’t know why I’m compelled to keep grabbing these snakes, even though everyone urged me not to do it the first time, and then begged me not to do it the second time. It’s like it’s in my instincts to ensnare nature in my manly grasp. I guess when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.

And when all you have is a pair of snakes, everything looks like John’s stupid face.

I’ll just hold on to it until it goes to sleep.

8 p.m.

The snake is still awake and no one really wants to be around me. They say that I make them feel unsafe, plus I’m holding a deadly snake. Idiots. They have at least another hour or two before I make some fatal, careless error like letting go of the snake.

10 p.m.

The campers are getting ready for bed, and John keeps glaring at me. He’s bugging everyone about sharing sleeping bags like an inconsiderate bozo.

I’d kick his ass if I had more than one fist to fight with. Although, it would be pretty cool to punch him with my snake hand. I can’t stop thinking about creeping up to him in the middle of the night and placing the snake’s trembling jaws on his throat. I keep telling people that, but they don’t want to hear it.

That’s pretty much all I want to talk about, so looks like I’ll be waiting this out alone.

11 p.m.

The snake is more awake than ever. It keeps whipping its tail around like a garden hose, so the damn thing keeps slapping me. Now I have to hold it with two hands, so I can’t even throw rocks at people’s tents anymore. There goes my night.

It’s rattling a lot and people are looking at me like it’s my fault.

“That makes us really uneasy. Can you make it stop?” they say.

I tell them, “If I could I would. And I’d kill John if I could too!” but they don’t like that. There’s no empathy with this group. The corporate world has really killed their souls. I can only hope that doesn’t happen to me.

3 a.m.

It looks like this thing isn’t sleeping anytime soon, so neither am I. I haven’t pulled an all-nighter since those two weeks I was in college. I’m actually looking forward to it.

In some ways, the snake and I are becoming friends. Mutual allies in our expulsion from the group.

3:05 a.m.

The snake almost bit me.

I had an itch on my nose, so I let go of what I thought was the tail end. With lightning quick reflexes I snatched his head back, but when I did, my finger landed perfectly between his
fangs. Now I’m sitting here with my finger in this snake’s mouth. I’m afraid to pull it out since I’m so close to its fangs. And it’s giving me an erection for some reason.

To be perfectly honest, I feel worse for him than I do for myself. The little guy never asked for any of this. The little guy didn’t even try to attack me when I let go of its head. Maybe I’m thinking of this relationship all wrong. Maybe we’re the savage beasts, not the snake.

3:06 a.m.

The snake bit me.

I tested my theory about the snake not biting me but it totally bit me. Like, a lot.

It scurried away, so that problem is solved, but what about me?

Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe my greatest accomplishment in life will be that I was killed by a snake, instead of running my popular anti-vaccination blog.

It’s not a bad way to go. I’ll just make sure to drift to sleep before the painful effects of the poison surge through my body.

In the words of Yacko Warner, “Goodnight everybody.”

3:07 a.m.



The Higgs Weldon is a humor website with funny stories, articles, cartoons, and one liners. It was started by the Los Angeles stand-up comedy community, but takes submissions from everybody. Please enjoy our jokes!


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