Dead Alive Snake Heads: You Make The Plot
In my constant search for news of the eerie and odd, I came across a slithering blog item on the USA Today news site. Says the Science Buzz blog, "A rattlesnake's recently severed head
still had enough reflexes left in it or other biological properties to
be able to bite the finger of a rancher who had just used a shovel to
snap off the head."
The short item continues, "Last week a rural Washington state man was bitten by the decapitated
head of a rattlesnake. After finding the five-foot snake in the grass
while feeding his horses, the man immobilized the snake with a pipe and
whacked off its head with a shovel. End of story, right?
"Oh no. When he reached down to pick up the snake, the severed head twisted around and bit the guy’s finger. It took about 10 minutes for him to get to the nearby hospital where anti-venom shots were given to him just as his tongue was starting to swell." Ew!
Scientific American says snake heads are dangerous and can bite for up to 60 minutes after being severed.
In my horror-filled mind, I'd write a screenplay in which these severed heads could actually be controlled by an evil, hermit scientist who's obsessed with rattlesnakes and hates people (probably because they hate snakes). So, hundreds of living, poisonous, hungry snake heads kill off the folks in a dusty, rural town. What would happen next? Or, would you make a different snake head plot all together?
The third grade class sat frozen as their teacher, Mrs. Porter, walked menacingly up each row of desks. Mrs. Porter was a veteran of her profession and longed for the days when a few hard slaps from her red chapped hands or a swing of the ruler, which now hung impotently at her waistband, brought quick retribution to the student who dared step out of line. Her face showed little emotion except for that of disapproval and looked out at the world with bespeckled eyes that magnified stone gray eyes with hard specks of flint. Mrs. Porter was now dissecting her class to find the single miscreant that had failed to complete the class assignment: show and tell. "Ah there you are." thought the teacher. She looked up at the large face of the classroom clock. 8:34am, school had been in session for 34 minutes and the first opportunity to met out some much needed discipline had finally reared it's ugly head. Mrs. Porter moved swiftly to the side of little Thomas Stevens and slammed her hand flat on the top of his desk. The boy made an almost inaudible eek and turned one more shade of ashen gray. "Where is your assignment, can't you see that EVERYONE else has brought something in, do I really need to speak with your FATHER again!" Mrs. Porter was beginning to enjoy herself and when she saw the first few tears brim up in the boy's eyes she started walking up the aisle. "Yes..., I do think I need to speak to your parentsss.", she practically hissed as she began seeking out her next victim. "But I did bring something in." a small mousey voice stopped her in her tracks. The teacher spun upon the voice as if to strike and she saw with dismay that Thomas was holding out a small package like a sacrifice to some dark God. "What have you got there?" Mrs. Porter queried. She was now feeling the blood begin to creep up even higher on her lined waddled neck. The schoolmarm was infuriated with the idea that this boy had perhaps brought a frog or a bug or something totally unacceptable into her classroom. There would be consequences. The teacher snatched the roughly wrapped bundle in one hand and quickly undid the shoelace tie exposing a small greenish-brown diamond shape object laying in the coarse paper. She nudged it with one long thin finger and then picked it up to more closely examine it. Mere inches now from her eyeglasses she began focusing on....scales? Just then two alien eyes blinked to life and a impossible forked tongue rode slickly across the dry skin of her wrist. Horrible nightmarish fangs developed in the every widening yaw of the rattlesnake head she now realized she was holding. The twin barbs, dripping with venom, struck deep into the fleshy part of her palm. The teacher tried to scream but suddenly felt like there was no longer any air in the room. "Don't you like it? Mrs. Porter. I found it on the road this morning. See now you don't have to tell my dad!" chimed little Tommy Stevens. There was an excited buzz in the classroom as the students gathered around Tommy's desk. This was the best show and tell ever.