Date:         Mon, 27 Jun 1994 01:45:22 -0500
 
Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Here's my contribution to the
snake stories.
 
************************************************************
 
 
 
A Can of Snakes
 
by Sharon Scotts
 
 
 
Nick walked into the Squad Room, expecting this night to be
much like any other night. He was wrong. Very wrong.
 
First off, Stonetree yelled at him for getting behind on his
paperwork. Well, he'd been busy. Not a good excuse,
according to the Captain. So he tried to log on to the
computer, to catch up on the paperwork, only to find that
the system was down. Great. Just great. He could either
write everything out in longhand or type it on the
misbegotten typewriter on his desk. Then he'd have to
duplicate that work later by keying it into the computer.
He'd like to meet the person who said that automation would
cut down on paperwork.
 
He started typing. Then he realized that half of his notes
were at home. Even better.
 
Williams dropped by to tell him that Sam Feeney had been
released. He spent most of his waking hours trying to put
murder suspects behind bars, only to see them walk within a
matter of hours. Wonderful.
 
Figuring things couldn't get any worse, he called the
telephone company about the problems with his phone. Of
course the telephone company no longer had actual humans
answering their phones, and after 15 minutes of punching "1"
to report a complaint, and "5" to report a complaint about
service, and "2" to report a complaint about *incoming* as
opposed to *outgoing* calls, he gave up. Marvelous.
 
And then Schanke showed up. Late, as usual, and babbling to
anyone who would listen about some gift a relative on
vacation in Texas had sent him. Waving a can around.
Terrific.
 
When Schanke had exhausted the attention of everyone else in
the room, he headed for Nick. Still waving the can around.
 
 
 
"Hey, Knight, look what I got today! A present from my
second cousin Bob, on my mother's side of the family. Look!"
 
Nick was not in the mood for all this cheerfulness, but his
mood wasn't Schanke's fault, so he faked an interest.
 
"What is it, Schank?"
 
"Rattlesnake! Canned rattlesnake! Do you believe it? Snake
in a can!"
 
Jeez.
 
"In a can, huh? That's great." What kind of a relative would
send you something like that? Silly question. One of
Schanke's relatives would.
 
"Yeah--look, right here on the can, it says 'Rattlesnake.
Net Wt. 7.5 oz. Fully Cooked Product. Packed for Maverick
Trading Post Co., Farmers Branch, Texas. Ingredients:
Rattlesnake Meat, Water, Salt.' And it's got a recipe for
barbecued rattlesnake! And smoked rattlesnake!" He held the
can out for Nick to inspect.
 
"That's really interesting, Schank." Right.
 
"Hey, you're invited for dinner Saturday night at my place.
We're gonna have a real 'Western' meal. You gotta come,
Knight. Myra says she wouldn't touch this stuff with a ten-
foot pole, but I'm gonna try the barbecue recipe. It's gonna
be great!"
 
"You *are* gonna come, aren't ya? Myra will be really
disappointed if you don't. You've turned us down the last 4
times we've asked you to dinner. You're gonna hurt her
feelings."
 
"Schanke, I'm busy here, okay? I'll talk to you about it
later."
 
Schanke started tossing the can from one hand to the other.
 
"Nick, I'm telling ya--she's gonna be mad if you don't show
up. And you've never seen Myra when she's mad. It's not a
pretty sight."
 
"*This* Saturday night? I think I've got something planned."
Schanke started throwing the can around his back and
catching it with his other hand. His next move was to toss
 
 
it under his bent knee and catch it with the other hand. And
then he threw it to Williams, who saw it coming *just* in
time to miss being conked on the head by it. Williams threw
it back and got up and left the room. As did almost everyone
else.
 
Schanke put the can down on his desk and started twirling it
around and around and around. Then he picked it up and
started pitching it from hand to hand again.
 
"You're gonna come, right? Yeah, you'll be there. You
wouldn't let your partner down, would ya?" He continued to
toss the can back and forth.
 
"Schanke, look, put down the snake and we'll talk."
 
Still tossing the can from hand to hand, Schanke said, "I
want a 'yes', pardner. Only a 'yes' will do."
 
Knight decided he was in the lowest level of hell, and the
only way up was to agree.
 
"Schanke, I'll be there. The answer is yes. NOW WILL YOU PUT
THAT DAMN CAN DOWN?"
 
"Okay, okay. It's down. See? On the desk."
 
Knight resumed his typing, hoping against hope that Schanke
would find something to do. Anything that would keep him
busy and quiet.
 
He should have known better.
 
"Hey, Knight, I've got a great idea! Garlic! I'll do garlic
chicken! I bet it'd be great! Whatcha think? Yeah, lots of
garlic--smother that snake in garlic."
 
Knight decided on his only course of action. He lowered his
head and began, quietly, to bang it against the top of the
typewriter.