REVENGE OF THE POD PEOPLE

You know the movie Snakes on a Plane? This was Snake in the Bed. Much, much, much scarier. Mainly because it was happening to me in REAL LIFE and not to Samuel L. Jackson on a Hollywood movie set.

The snake and I stared at each other and time seemed to stop. Then, at incredible speed, a number of things happened all at once.

Brainy scientists say that it is aerodynamically impossible for a human being to fly. The laws of physics do not allow it.

And what I would say to those scientists is this: Quit flapping your gums, Einsteins. You might know plenty about science and mathematics, but you don’t know what a human is capable of when he finds a snake in his bed. But if you wanted to conduct an experiment to find out, all you’d have to do is place one terrified kid (for the sake of argument, let’s call him Rafe Khatchadorian) in close proximity to a giant snake, and you would see unaided human flight take place in about two seconds flat. Guaranteed.

Once I had computed the impossible information that there was, in fact, a huge snake in my bed, I levitated so fast that I bounced off the ceiling, spun around in midair, and rocketed out of the room at approximately 926 miles an hour without my feet touching the ground once.

Did I mention I was screaming?

Well, I was—loudly and without drawing breath and in a voice so high I was surprised the windows didn’t shatter. As soon as I locked eyes on the reptile in my bed, I screamed like a police siren without an Off switch.

I screamed as I hurtled down the Coogans’ hallway, I screamed as I clattered down the stairs, and I was still screaming as I sprinted into the crowded living room, tripped over a coffee table, and somersaulted into the TV, which exploded in a totally impressive shower of sparks and smoke. I was left sprawled half over the coffee table, with cake all over me, my butt stuck up high in the air, and my face buried in the carpet.

It wasn’t a good look.

See?

“SNNNNNNAAAAAAAAAAAAAKKKKE!” I howled, lifting my chin from the carpet. “S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-SNAAAAAAAAAKKKKKE!”

There was a moment of stunned silence. Biff and Barb Coogan looked blankly at me and then at the busted TV.

“Snake?” I said. My voice went up at the end of the word like I was asking a question. Maybe I was asking a question. Maybe there hadn’t been a snake?

And then Bradley and Belinda and all their surfy-alien-mutant friends started to laugh. They laughed until tears ran down their perfect cheeks. They would stop laughing for a second and then see my yellow underwear with the stars and start laughing all over again.

“Stop,” one kid gasped, holding his hands up. “I can’t breathe!” And then he rolled over, his shoulders shaking.

They’d stop laughing, and then someone would say, “The TV!” and off they’d go once more. If one of them had literally laughed their head right off their shoulders, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

Even Biff and Barb joined in.

Then Mom arrived. “What’s all the noise?” she asked.

“Rafe’s making us all laugh,” Barb Coogan said. “He’s quite a joker, isn’t he?”

Before Mom could reply, Bradley turned to one of his friends. “You get that, Danny?” he said.

I looked around to see Bradley’s friend holding up his phone and nodding. “Every last freakin’ second, Bradster,” he said. He leaned forward and high-fived Bradley. “Uploading now.”