By Max Taxe

“I think a snake is in my bed.”

I’m trying to sound cool and casual about the snake in my bed. You think it’s my way of keeping you out of my bedroom, you say its okay, we can stay on the couch, take it slow. I like that.

“I THINK a snake is in my bed.”

Look, I’m not entirely positive, but I’m leaning toward sure. You say I’m playing hard to get, but really, I’m freaking out. I hope you appreciate how fun and cheeky I am about the snake situation. We laugh together, we laugh about a lot. The third date will be at his apartment, which is hopefully snake-free.

“I think A snake is in my bed.”

Just one! I want to be clear to you that it’s not the snake, not the one from my childhood nightmares I told you about that one time. Just a run of the mill snake ordeal. We could have our own snake as a pet one day, in our cottage out by the lake, away from people.

“I think a snake IS in my bed.”

I run into the hallway, and you’re on the couch, and you think this is a playful way for me to lure you into my bedroom, but you’re in for the worst surprise. You used to be easier to lure to the bedroom and you never used to question whether or not there was a snake in my bed.

“I think a snake is IN my bed.”

I’m shouting, I’m being very clear about the location, not under, above, slithering on the walls around, but in it, in the place I sleep, in the place I’d like you to sleep too and not go home in the middle of the night because you’re more comfortable on your snakeless futon.

“I think a snake is in MY bed.”

You didn’t believe me, you never believe me, I want you – and the snake – out of here, out of my apartment, not ours anymore, you were never on the lease anyway.

“I think a snake is in my BED.”

I’m sleeping in the foyer, in a cocoon of blankets. The snake has taken over the bed and is shedding its skin under the covers and doing the whole hissing thing. The bedroom is his now, and I am alone, but warm.

Max Taxe is a writer from Los Angeles. He is currently writing the movie MOONSHOT for HBO Max, and a pilot for ABC. His screenplay, GOODBYE, FELIX CHESTER was named to the 2012 Black List and won the Austin Film Festival for Best Comedy Feature. He has recently had his short story, I AM A BAD PLANT MOM, published in Cosmonauts Avenue.

Art by Lesley C. Weston (Brush-applied ink)

Previous Next