Last night I dreamed I pulled an enormous, thick black python out of the sabal palm on the corner of the lot, tugging it down from the branches by its tail.
I should have known something wasn’t right by the way it so easily untangled itself and fell into a loose coil at my feet. I wrestled it, despite the fact it didn’t require wrestling, and pinned it’s head down against the sandy saw grass.
With a machete I do not own, swiftly, I dragged the blade horizontally across it’s body, just behind its jaw.
It severed cleanly. There was no blood.
I looked down at my kill and wondered whether cold blood runs.
Moments later, the body of the snake writhed as if it still had life inside it, and then a hundred smaller snakes slithered from the wound.