I wanted a snake, so my roommate reluctantly agreed to drive to the snake store. They have all the snakes there, from tiny little garter snakes up to giant pythons, plus the rats and mice and crickets that go into them. But even a starter snake set up was a lot more expensive than I had thought. Even if we pooled our resources, it wouldn’t be enough, and my roommate was not the resources pooling type.
I thought about going out to the park and grabbing a snake of my own, but would it be right to keep a wild snake in a terrarium? Wouldn’t it bite the first chance it got, then slide right out the door, without a thought to all the love a person might be able to give?
It’s hard to let go. For nights on end, all I dreamed of were snakes and snakes and snakes. Often they wrapped around me and swallowed me whole, and then I too became a snake, shedding those useless limbs, embracing the calm snake joy of tasting the universe with every flick of my tongue.
I’d wake up in despair from such dreams, because it was like the universe had changed the difficulty level of the game: if it was that hard to own a snake, how much harder must it be to become a snake instead?
We’re not talking metaphors here. I’d like to think I’m a good person.
So imagine my joy when in the little free library just down the street I found the trade paperback edition of How to Turn the People You Love into Snakes. Even though it was from the seventies, it was in excellent condition, and a quick read. It turns out that it’s quite easy to turn a person into a snake; the ingredients can be found lying around in the produce section of a well-stocked supermarket. All you need is someone to love.
I took my roommate out to dinner. Over coffee I asked, “Could you find it in your heart to love me, and then turn me into a snake?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to hook up with your roommate,” my roommate said. “And even if it did work out, then I’d be stuck with keeping you in a terrarium, and I don’t think I could do that to someone I love.”
“You could love me a little while and then let me go,” I said.
“That’s not how I practice love,” my roommate said. “When I let myself fall in love, I don’t let go.”