Snakes

"This is my worst nightmare" Max thought to himself.

Completely alone Max was surrounded by hundreds of snakes. Even worse his fat body was backed into a corner. The sound of the snakes hissing sounded like someone was frying bacon. It crackled through the air. In the pile, the snakes wove under and over each-other. Cold bodies weaving in an almost endlessly hypnotic pattern. All of the snakes varied in size and color. Some reached lengths of six-seven feet. Some were all black, and some were orange with markings. The heap would've weighed more than a grown man. Every time the lights flickered, the snakes would seemingly form a new pattern. Every time the lights flickered back on, the snakes were a little bit closer to Max.

Max stood frozen. The bald patch on his crown shining under the short-circuiting florescent lights. His big key-chain hung from his belt like a dirty chandelier. The key-chain weighted his pants down enough so that his stomach spilled over the sides. Sweat fell from the tips of his mustache. His shoes had holes in them. Like little windows to the feet he couldn't seem to move now. His yellow mop laid on the floor , on top of heaps of broken glass.

He had accidentally knocked over the 12th grade's snake terrariums while he had been moping. They had crashed down around him, snakes spilling all over the floor. Now they all moved slowly towards him.

Max had been the janitor of Josiah G Johnson high-school for almost two decades. Each night after everyone had left, he would clean the school. Every night he wandered from class-room to class-room like a sleep walker, pushing his mop. Some nights he would clean twenty rooms without realizing it. He would just numbly and mindlessly march through the school.

As the snakes flicked their tongue on the cold floor, Max looked around the science room. Microscopes and scales cast shadows on the walls. Pieces of the ceiling tiles fell down like dandruff. A large periodic table on the wall with crude drawings all over it. He used to sit in that desk by the window years ago. In the flickering lights he could still see his name carved into it. One leg was shorter than the rest so it slanted forwards. He remembered how the teacher would call on him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. But he was always paying attention. He would bat the answer back at her as quickly as she had pitched it to him.

One day his parents had to have a meeting after school with the teacher. Max remembered being so nervous that he was in some sort of trouble. To his surprise the meeting was to discuss Max's "potential". The teacher seemed to think that if he tried his best he could accomplish big things. Everyone was always talking about his "potential". Especially Holly Rodriguez, who sat two desks in front of him. She often would pass him notes with little purple hearts drawn on them. Her thick brown curls would fly through the air every time she turned in her desk to look back at him. In his eyes she was definitely the most enchanting girl he'd seen. Being two desks away from her felt like having a front row seat to see the northern lights. She had only really noticed him when he won the scholarship to go to UF for herpetology. The principle had made a big deal of bringing it up to the class.

That was two weeks before they graduated. On graduation day she had given him her number, and hoped they would 'see each other lots this summer'. He still remembered the little carefully folded piece of paper. The number written in her wavy handwriting, her signature purple hearts book-ending each side. That was twenty years ago; he never called her. He could barely remember the time between then and now. He could barely recall accepting this job. He couldn't remember the five or so principals that had came and went during the time he'd been there. He couldn't remember a single graduation banner he'd cleaned up. He couldn't even remember his 30th birthday.

He met his own eyes in the puddle of terrarium water. He didn't recognize them at first. His shaggy eyebrows above his sad old eyes. He wondered what his teachers and classmates would think. He wondered what she would think. What she would think about his dingy studio apartment where he lived alone. It didn't even have a stove, just a microwave. There were posters on the floor with pin holes in them that had once been hung. It took him years to realize his phone was broken, because its silence was the norm. He didn't even have a cat.

What would she think about how he never took that scholarship to UF to become the world's leading expert on venomous snakes. Even though that was his dream. Even though everyone had told him he had the potential to do it. She was probably married by now. With each thought, regret fell on his chest like sandbags. One after another, memories of potential and promise came out through the fog.

The snakes moved through glass, over plastic rocks, and water dishes towards him. Sliding on top of each other. Tongues darted in and out. He had hopelessly slid down the wall, and slumped on the floor. His eyes out of focus. His hands sweat against his bleach stained jeans. The snakes slithered inches from him. Seconds from writhing on top of his body. Chilling tails wrapping around his neck. Absolute moments from being covered in serpents. He looked back at his old desk again. It seemed so far away now, even though he couldn't move. From the second the terrariums shattered on the floor, everything had felt so much clearer. He was aware of where he was. His face turned pale as he realized it was too late to escape.