After attempting to summon up my Harry Potter parseltongue abilities without much success, I began to scream through the screen door for my 10 year old son to come out and rescue me. After much yelling, he finally came to the door to see what all the commotion was about. "There's a snake in the grill," I told him, as calmly as possible. "What do you want me to do about it? I don't have any shoes on," he told me before turning around and heading back into the house. That is when I realized that it must be sometime after the age of 10 that boys develop a desire to rescue the damsel in distress.
Thankfully, B came to my rescue and chased the snake off. It slithered away reluctantly and is now probably hiding in the grass waiting to catch me alone and finish the meal he had himself all watered up for. (Believe me, I'm tastey. Ask any mosquito in Nebraska.)
P.S. B has informed me that the snake probably looked more like this:Oh, well Indiana Jones didn't like snakes either.