Case of the Giant Viper

        Matthew Pollack sprinted into the police station like a bat out of Hell. “Giant snake...my friend…we tried…he’s dead...Kaiju.”

        Officer Bolton wasn’t sure if that last utterance was a sneeze, but he offered the young man a tissue and ushered him to a chair. Moments later, his sister Pamela lumbered through the door. She was guided into a seat across from Officer Collins.

Matthew J. Pollack’s police statement:

         I had just gotten off the phone with Marsha Kramer. She was my sister’s best friend and my best irritation—like a rash. Marsha has that high-pitched baby voice that I find as grating as nails across a chalkboard and she has the nasty habit of speaking in ’up-talk’. Not to mention her perpetually greasy hair, her horrific halitosis, and her constant hugs. She included me in the planning of Pam’s surprise birthday party, however, so for the sake of my sister, I was going to be cordial while we worked together.

         Marsha arranged for the celebration to be at ‘The Beer Garden’, a restaurant down the street from our house. My task was to get my sister there without her suspecting anything. I also needed a gift, and I had no idea of what to give her, time was running out.

          Greg, my friend from college, stopped by. He suggested that I give Pam something that would remind her of her younger days. We decided to look through some boxes that she left behind when she got married. Greg flipped through an old photo album. 

         “Look at this.” He was hysterical, and his laughter was infectious even before I saw the photo.

         A twelve-year-old Marsha and Pam were standing hip to hip. They had mirroring side ponytails and wore Bailey Barr t-shirts, a couple of typical “barrettes.” That’s what the 14-year-old music sensation Bailey Barr’s female fans were called, “barrettes.” I personally always saw her fascination as a “young and naïve” enthrallment, and I supposed she saw my disdain for the kid as a jealousy of his success.

         Bailey Barr’s lack of singing ability and cheesy songs, along with his multiple attempts to come off as masculine by smoking weed, hanging out with rappers, and trying to grow a mustache, were laughable. He came across as an arrogant little brat. I heard that he spit off a balcony outside of his hotel room on screaming teenage “barrettes and barettas” below.

         Anyway, Pam’s favorite song was ‘Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice.’ I found an old mixed tape of hers with that song on it in one of the boxes. Other favorite songs of hers from her pre-teen years were also recorded on it. I gave the cassette to Greg to hold until the party and he slipped the tape into his shirt pocket.

         The clock chimed; it was 5 p.m. The plan was that Pam’s husband, Ken, would tell the birthday girl that he was working late, and he and Pam would celebrate her birthday the following weekend. I would pick her up at about 7:45 p.m. and take her to ‘The Beer Garden’ for a birthday drink with her dear brother.

         After Greg and I had dinner with my parents, he left, saying he’d see me at the party.  I drove to Pam's house to pick her up. During our short ride to ‘The Beer Garden’, she complained non-stop about her husband working late on her birthday, so I knew she had no idea about the party. I cranked up the radio.

         By the time we arrived at our destination, the parking lot was pretty much full. The only available parking space was behind the establishment near the tree line, and the lighting was dim since the lamp lights do not extend that far back. As we got out of the car, we heard a groan coming from within the wooded area. I said it was probably a couple of drunk patrons. We argued about the cause of the noise. Pam was more worried than I was, she gave people the benefit of the doubt too often. I eventually caved and cautiously pushed aside bushes and bramble to investigate. I only trekked ahead about four yards before I saw him—and it.

         Greg was sticking out of the maw of a giant snake. His lower legs were wedged in the creature’s jaws, I could almost see his feet bulging the back of its pliable head. I grabbed my friend’s flailing arms, clamping onto his wrists, all the while yelling for help. Suddenly, Pam was behind me, she grabbed the waist band of my jeans and pulled. I didn’t know if she was helping me save Greg or trying to save me from being swallowed as well.

         I’ll never forget the sound of Greg’s bones crunching like a bag of pretzels as they crushed under the pressure of the reptiles contracting body. That sound was what convinced me to let go. Pam and I fell to the ground and scuttled backward until Pam’s back hit a tree. I quickly scrambled to my feet and yanked Pam so hard, she almost tumbled forward. We ran into the bar and everyone yelled surprise.

***

         Officer Bolton printed Matt’s statement and handed it to him. “This is your typed statement, read it and if it seems accurate, sign here.”

         Matt read it and said, “You better take out the first three sentences if that’s okay.” I don’t think you need to record my opinion of Marsha Kramer, do you?”

         After Matt and Pam left the station, Officer Bolton walked across the noisy room to Officer Collins’s cubical. “The kid says a giant snake ingested Greg Martin.”

         “The girl called it a mutant serpent.” Officer Collins made a deep sound in his throat and huffed through his nose, then handed Pam’s statement to Bolton, and Bolton took it back to his desk to read:

Pamela R. Gordon’s police statement:

         While we were getting ready for work this morning, Kenny, my husband, told me he’d be at his office until at least 11 p.m. I was disappointed, it was my birthday after all, but I didn’t make a big fuss.

         Matt called me at the salon where I work to ask if he could take me out for a birthday drink and we agreed he would pick me up between 7:30 p.m. and 8 p.m. and that we would be going to ‘The Beer Garden’. It was close to my house.

         I was ready and watching for him and getting impatient, so when he finally arrived, I didn’t wait for him to get out of the car. I locked the door behind me, and we were on our way.

         The music in the car was so loud that if we wanted to talk to each other, we’d never hear what the other was saying, so by the time we arrived and found a parking space, I had a booming headache. I confess that I did recognize some of the cars and suspected that there may be more going on than merely drinks between family.

         Matt parked the car near the back, by the woods. When I opened the passenger door, I heard a guttural cry, like a loud moan. I wanted to find out if someone was in trouble and my brother was not being cooperative, so I stepped towards the trees knowing he’d stop me and check things out himself, he is chivalrous by nature. 

         He was out of sight only about a minute before I heard his shouts for help. I raced towards the cries and saw Matt clinging to his buddy Greg, trying his best to pull his friend out of the jaws of a mutant serpent. I wondered if I was in a Godzilla flick. I grabbed Matt by the waist, but my fingernails scraped along his belt and my fingers hooked through the belt loops on his pants.

         We both lost our grip and toppled to the forest floor. We could see Greg’s body move along the creature’s insides as if it were trying to squeeze an obstruction down to its tail.

***

        “Interesting case to say the least,” Bolton mumbled.

         Three days later, a man named Joshua Kane entered the police station and rattled off a statement reinforcing the statements from the siblings. His story went like this:

Joshua L. Kane’s police statement:    

         Anyone who takes care of an in-ground swimming pool knows that anything from flying insects to creepy crawlies can get caught in the skimmers. I check mine every day, ever since a year ago when I found a dead frog in one of them. It must have floated in there and gotten trapped. One day, when I found a live five-inch snake. I kept it in a fish tank, read all about creating a proper habitat for it.

         It was growing, and after four months I transferred it to a large reptile enclosure that I built myself. A painted steel structure with plywood panels, Plexiglas front doors and a living space 60 inches high, 48 inches long and 28 inches wide. It was a beautiful piece of furniture. Zak, that’s what I called him, lived there for almost a year, continuing to grow in both length and width.

       When he grew too large for the terrarium I built, I did some remodeling to the enclosed patio attached to my house and fashioned an adequate room for Zak. The room is adjacent to the kitchen so I’m always careful to keep both the door to the kitchen and the door leading outside secure. But this morning, as I was working in my garden, I heard the door to the patio bang shut from a strong gust of wind. Startled, I moved to the enclosure to make certain Zak was there, sure enough he was. I also saw a dried pancake of vomit with these caked in it.

         Joshua held out two zip lock baggies: one containing a cassette tape, the other a human toe. “This was what he expelled.”