I bet most of you have never killed a "poisonous" snake during church before, huh? That's what I thought. Yeah, I have, right after the pausing prayers, too. See, I was sitting next to Kenna and Mrs. Davis with my brother and family behind me. Pr. Terry's son Jonah was preaching.
"In Jesus' name, amen." As soon as Jonah finished praying Josh (my brother) leaned forward and asked Kenna, "Can I have your water bottle?" We both turned to him to inquire why he'd ask such an odd request in the middle of church, no less. "Well, there's a snake by your Bible." I jumped up with the rest of the congregation as the intro for the next song started, but Kenna stayed quite still. I can't blame her for being afraid of snakes, I very much dislike them myself. Josh grabbed her water bottle and sure, enough, out slithered a little black snake.
"Should I kill it?" I don't know why I asked, I definitely wasn't expecting any answer, let alone the one that came. "NO!" I don't know who said it, but no one came up to save the thing, so I commenced smashing. I picked up my plastic chair and placed the leg squarely on the head of the "beast." All six inches of it wiggled and writhed, while Josh waded through the isles to go find a stick. Mrs. Long from the row ahead of us parted the chairs and stepped in front of me with her sharp shoes. I don't know what she did, but the snake was still alive when she went back to her seat, so I continued smashing. Some guy I didn't recognise came up with his pocket knife and stood about three feet away pointing the blade at the thing. Big help, dude.
As soon as the murmuring rustled through the crowd that there was a snake among us, ladies began exclaiming, "Should we get up on the chairs now!?" and "Ohhh, I bet there's more where that came from!" Mrs. Davis reminded us that "It's the smaller ones that have the most poison. Watch out! Don't let it bite you" as she backed out of the isle. I didn't say anything, but kept moving the leg of the chair to puncture the squirming head and break the open jaw. By the time I could hear the strains of the song again, Josh had returned with a twig and told me to just sit down on it. Not an inch of it was moving, but I thought a little extra weight on the point wouldn't hurt. Kenna returned from wherever she had gone and we kept singing. I finally stood back up, but at any little bug on my ankle or breeze in the grass tickling my feet, I did look down, I'll admit.
It didn't bite anyone. It's dead. All six inches of quarter-inch thick muscle terror are defeated.
Moral of the story: Don't ever let your brother close his eyes while praying in an outdoor church. He might miss a snake by your feet.