Lloyd the Snake Man

I thought I would take this opportunity to tell you (no one is reading this so I'm essentially telling myself) a little story about a little man with a big... snake. Seriously though, he owns a snake sanctuary. Compensating for something much?

So, the story begins in South Africa, in December 2007. I'm chilling with my sister and her (now ex, and asshole) boyfriend, when an old friend of his rocks up. His name is Lloyd. And he is The Snake Man. Locals of the town know little about Lloyd, in fact few know his real name is Lloyd. When they see him stroll through town with his long blonde locks blowing in the wind, wearing nothing but a dead snake around is neck (slight exaggeration), they point in amazement and cry: 'Hey, its the Snake Guy!'. He prides himself on this. Who needs a name, when you're The Snake Guy? So, I'm introduced to him, and he seems nice. Smiley, and, what with him having an oversized head and all, its a big smile. And charming. So we chat a lot, and as the night progresses, I find his hand on my leg. Not averse to a bit of flirtation, I laugh, smile, flutter my eye lashes, etc etc. To cut a long story short, a few hours later I have decided to sneak The Snake Man into my Grandma's apartment while she is sleeping. I kid you not.

And then what happens? Well, let's just say Lloyd's snake, perhaps the most important of all his snakes, gets a little frightened and recoils. At which point I realise that is probably a good thing, and am happy for him to leave when - how considerate - Lloyd feels the need to explain why this has happened. You see not only is he the Snake Guy, but he's also the i-need-speed-before-i-can-perform-guy. And, seeing as he hadn't banked on meeting any ladies on a quiet Thursday night in the little coastal town, he hadn't taken any. You see, Lloyd the Snake Man is looking for a soul mate. He only leaves the house in the hope of finding a lady who will care for his snake for an eternity. And, funnily enough, Lloyd has decided this should be me.

So an hour later we are sitting outside the apartment, as he tries to convince me he's not an absolute drug addict psycho (I brought this on myself - he had almost left earlier but, as he was leaving, had cried 'Fine, I just didn't see you as the judgemental type. I thought you were different'. This triggered my 'Hey man, I'm cool, I don't judge' reflex and thus, an hour later, there sat old Snakey pouring his heart out to me). 

So finally he left. And he sent many a text message over the following weeks, all unanswered. Ironic that the girl who has had a snake phobia here whole life magically became quite the snake tamer after all.