Dio is my son's pet snake. He lives like a king. It's only proper after all, he is a King snake. No, he does not wear a crown. He says it's itchy. Dio is very long. Longer than my arm. I am quite positive as to the accuracy of this statement due to the many times Dio's owner has tried to force him on me...my arms, my neck, my chest...wherever he will stick when landing. I feel this is highly inappropriate, and have tried to tell Dio this, which only leaves him looking confused, and I have tried to tell Dio's owner, who immediately retreats to the bathroom, and locks the door.

Dio lives in a tank in his owner's room. He only gets out when his owner lets him out, the rest of the time he cannot escape, as I had anticipated his diabolical plot, and demanded his owner put between 29-32 heavy books on the lid to the tank. Last night, his owner decided to let Dio go for a walk, basically unescorted through the living room. I was in the living room.
The lighting was dim, I was fluffing pillows on the couch. My feet were bare, and my legs, as I was wearing only a nightie. As I turned to sit, I see none other than DIO, making his way out to what? watch TV? I wanted to tell him that Keeping Up With The Kardashians was a rerun, he should probably go back to...ahem...his owner's room, where he can watch Animal Planet.

Poor Dio, he has no say in his scaly life. He has no control over where he goes, or who his owner decides to sic him on. And last night it was me. After my initial scream, my son picked Dio up, here, he says, take him. I'm off the couch like a shot. Get that thing away from me! No, here, just touch him (his cold nose is touching mine...) NO! I scream, jumping up on the couch (yeah, that really got me far) C'mon Mom, you don't have to be afraid,(that's what they told me about that stupid f'n clown doll on the shelf in my room when I was 3! Bullshit, I didn't have to be afraid, the thing was Chucky OK? Pure unadulterated evil).

For approximately 5 minutes we banter back and forth, as I jump over, in front of, and in back of the couch, and Dio is thrust closer and closer to me, through no fault of his own, but rather his owner, who slings Dio around like a yo-yo, until I am finally somehow backed into the corner, the fireplace to my right, and nothing but a large floor lamp in front of me. My son still cannot seem to hear my pleads, which have turned to shrill sqwacks the longer he ignores them. He is still laughing, the little devil. Finally, I position the floor lamp at an angle, which forms a makeshift barrier and I scream, and keep screaming, until poor Dio recoils in horror, and his very humorous owner takes him back to his room, laughing all the way. HaHaHa.

Later, I sneak in to tell Dio, it was nothing personal. as snakes go, he's pretty cool. I mean he's named after Ronnie James Dio , his skin is a pretty orange and silver color, very trendy in any season. He lets everyone watch him eat. Which really is a big deal, when you consider that he only eats once every two weeks, and the event is sold out like its a WWE wrestling match or something. His owner brings in "the bag", all friends of owner within a 15 mile radius have prime seating privileges, boys and girls alike, their semi-long black hair plastered to their foreheads, which are plastered to the glass of Dio's crib.

Out of the bag, he takes the $3.50-$4.00 live mouse. A chubbo. Definitely worth the price.
He's already shaking as he's held out by the tail for all to admire. Ah, yes, he's guessed his fate. The 32 books are removed, the lid is taken off, and the owner just dangles him there.
Murmurs arise throughout the crowd, which by now is standing room only. And the owner prepares to drop him in, digital cameras and videocams are at the ready.The mouse is dropped, and from my spot in the living room, I hear a dull roar. Then a bunch of excited gibberish as the mouse is dropped, and the chase is on, he's running for his life. It won't last long, the shivering little meal, and Dio's immense hunger. From the crowd I hear a chorus of
"awww"'s, signaling that Dio indeed made his catch. Now everyone watches him digest.
He slides in quickly through Dio's jaws, then sticks a little in the middle, making Dio bulge as though he were pregnant or something. And the thing of it is...ahhh...the thing of it is, the mouse is still alive!! Later as he begins to become digested, the gang goes outside for a  smoke.

Dio, jaded already by his own celebrity status,slithers under the rocks, and curls up underneath his water pool. That's how I like to watch him, with the glass between us,
and the 32 books above him.  Truly, it's nothing personal.