Posted by: immanuelryan | September 4, 2009

Death of a Scalesman

I killed a rattlesnake today. “Good job, it would have killed you first”. “If the children, or the pets had found it, there’s no telling what could’ve happened.” “Those suckers are everywhere, the only good rattler is a dead rattler”. That’s what they all say, but did I really do the right thing? Imagine with me for a moment that you belong to a species that has spent millions of years surving in the harshest of climates and environments, with no limbs or claws to ward off attackers or capture food. The only thing natural selection has gifted you with for your survival are two sharp teeth filled with a chemical solution that paralyzes food and enemies long enough to ingest them or escape. rattlesnakeBecause you belong to a cold blooded species, you have to constantly migrate to new locations to keep your body at the perfect equilibrium temperature, or you will surely die. Now, along comes another species whose claim to fame is an enlarged neocortex and the ability to make tools. These uncoordinated bi-peds begin building air conditioned, self-contained habitats in the middle of your desert home, where you have spent so much time naturally adapting to the blistering conditions. Underneath these newly constructed habitats one can find ample shade, as well as crisscrossing pipes which deliver water to every area of the bi-ped’s den. The shade and moist environment is a welcome relief in a barren hell that often provides little of either. Like a sojourning bedouin to a Saharan oasis, you make your way to the self-contained habitat along with many species of animals which serves as your food source. You feel no malice toward the bi-peds, nor do you have an affection for them. Their domiciles are merely a means to an end.  You help them by regulating the population of small rodents, which they irrationally despise so much, while you do your best to avoid getting trampled on by there two, big clumsy pods. Naturally, if some breed of canine, feline or the bi-peds themselves came poking around with their claws and pointy tools you would have to defend yourself, as they are the larger and more dangerous species. You subsist in the dank, darkness underneath their homes and sometimes venture out to warm your cold, scaled body in the sun’s rays, only to return again to the darkness to find some furry rodent for dinner. Alas, on one fateful day, a day which appears like any other, one of the bi-peds discovers you warming yourself just outside the self-contained domicile. You want nothing to do with this fellow, so you try to retreat to the darkness, but he pins your body with one of his tools. You writher and writhe to escape, feeling desperation and hopelessness grow within you. The bi-peds are unpredictable and ruthless. The only action left available to you is to coil and attempt a defense with your only weapon, your venomous fangs. But before you have the opportunity to strike, a shiny, spade shaped tool descends with force upon your head and all is lost. You can see your body laying in front of you. Your torso wriggles, as if still trying to escape, and yet you are giving your body no commands to flee. As the blood spills from your neck and the oxygen escapes your brain, you can see the bi-ped standing over you, raising his shiny tool in triumph. He has vanquished the enemy of his child bi-peds and his domesticated canines. Bi-ped with toolNever again will you be able to torment him from beneath, as he reposes in his climate-controlled habitat above. As he hoots and hollers, you can only think how nice it would be to bathe in the warmth of the sun’s rays one..last…ti….


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