Erin didn’t tell them I have the snake.
They would have told the general public.
Seems like they would, anyway.
The law might figure it out.
There’s an old Youtube video where Dr. Phyllis Meiklen said I needed to relinquish it.
No one ever raised one of these from a baby in America.
No private citizen anyway, except me.
Audubon has one, and San Diego.
I designed the accordion-fold habitat for mine.
No one would have a clue I have a snake in this motel
I made my own anti-venin for it.
Not that Smoke would ever bite me.
He’d bite to protect me.
I have spent the past four hours making a decision.
Do I try to make it to NOLA, give Smoke to Audubon?
Do I turn myself in on the condition that they don’t hurt Smoke?
I don’t trust them to keep their word.
If they arrest me in this fucking motel they’re just gonna shoot Smoke.
I could email Orkner in Nashville. He might come and transport Smoke, though the Herpetological Society might frown on him abetting a fugitive.
Or he might give me up.
Being honest, I want Smoke to bite a cop. Maybe two.
But they’ll kill him for sure then.
Erin will be sad if Smoke dies.
Sadder than she will be that a cop shot me.
I robbed the banks of my own free will.
No financial need.
No addictions, except to adrenaline.
Erin told me not to rob the third bank.
I told her three was good luck, then I would stop.
I’m not certain I was telling her the truth.
She’s certain I was not telling her the truth.
But she didn’t tell the cops I have the snake.
The snake I raised from infancy.
My forearm was his first playground.
It’s odd to hear your own story on the television.
They make me sound so sinister.
No one died in those bank robberies.
That money is insured.
I swear they had someone photoshop my eyes to make me look squintier,more evil.
They made me look more like Smoke.
I love Smoke.
He could kill you in about a minute and 38 seconds, depending on your body weight.
If he bites a cop, I could administer the anti-venin, probably save the cop’s life.
But do you think they’d let me do that?
How do you think they’d react if I said, “Excuse me, officer, unhandcuff me so I can give your colleague an injection?”
They’d laugh at me.
If they get me here, in this motel, do you think Tennessee cops are gonna ask the Detroit cops why they never told ‘em I had a snake?
Erin never told ‘em.
I’m sure they never asked.
Smoke.
I put my arm in the habitat.
Smoke climbs on.
Dr. Phyllis Meiklen was a brilliant ophiologist. She’s dead now, rolled her car into a ravine after a few too many at a conference in Taos.
Someone’s banging on the door.
Dr.Meiklen got one wrong.
She thought Smoke would kill me.
I email Orkner.
Tell him to fly to…fuck me sideways…I look at the restaurant menus on the dresser…McMinnville.
Orkner emails me back immediately. I’m shocked.
I tell the cops I’m putting my clothes on even though I’m fully dressed.
Orkner says he’s at a helipad because he and Van Locke were on their way to the Everglades.
He says he’ll take Smoke to Audubon.
I tell him the room number.
He can figure out how to deal with the cops.
I text Erin and tell her I love her.
The cops bang on the door again.
I tell them I have a highly venomous, very swift snake.
One of the cops says “that’s new.”
Erin texts me back:
They are monitoring my phone, you dumbfuck.
The door splinters..
The eyes of the cops tell me they thought I was lying about the snake.
Smoke wraps around my neck.
A cop screams at me to drop it.
I cannot.
It’s not a gun.
It’s a snake and it has a mind of its own.
***
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As long as Smoke doesn't escape down the toilet, it should all end up ok.
A little freaked out, J.
This needs a sequel.