The Pink and the Green

The day had been exhausting. Vanessa’s boss, a Neanderthal whose last confession went back to 1972 and concerned torturing kittens to extract information about Israeli plans to defend the Negev (three Our Father and four Ave Maria later, he had been back in God’s good books), had threatened economic sanctions if she refused to tend to his natural urges—in his case, that would involve dripping hot candle wax on her nipples while stapling green silk ribbons to her labia. Why green? you may ask—he happened to love the earth.

So walking home was a bit of an ordeal for Vanessa on that late Tuesday afternoon, but she was looking forward to a long bath—no candles today, thanks—and a glass of Pinot grigio... Wait, what is Pushkin doing in that tree?

She’d noticed the neighbor’s black cat’s tail swinging quite enthusiastically among the blooming pink flowers of her dogwood tree. She loved her dogwood tree too much to let that little rascal scratch half its bark off! She quickly entered the house, grabbed a broom from the kitchen, and proceeded to shake it at the furry little devil whose droppings were threatening to overcome her garden’s heavenly scents.

The dark tail was done swinging, though, as its last few inches were rapidly disappearing inside a huge snake’s jaws. Vanessa couldn’t help noticing that the monster’s emerald scales were strongly reminiscent of the fabric she would soon have to spend excruciating hours unstapling from herself.

Now that’s much better for my tree! I wonder how I’m going to convince this animal to stick around for a while—not that there is any shortage of kitties in the neighborhood.

Knowing full well the python wasn’t going anywhere while it digested Pushkin, she went back inside and:
- unstapled her private parts,
- took a shower,
- tended to her wounds (working three years under Mr. Rebhorn had greatly broadened her medical expertise, as she could hardly be expected to spend her hard-earned wages on daily hospital bills),
- browsed the internet for information on morelia viridis husbandry,
- completely forgot about the Pinot bottle chilling in the fridge.

The interesting thing about the green tree python was its better than average aggressiveness. According to Wikipedia, “amongst many who have kept this species, the Green Tree Python has a reputation for being a furious reptile which will bite when provoked.”

Vanessa loved Wikipedia. By now she’d forgotten all about protecting her garden, she just couldn’t wait for Thursday.

                                           


Thursday, in Mr. Rebhorn’s office, was gokkun day. Still sore from Wednesday's assignment, Vanessa went to work intent on giving her boss the treat of his life... boy did she take good care of him! Her tongue was oh so gentle, slow at first, then a quick, tender gobble, then a bit of teabagging—in no time he was ready to go, eyes closed, no doubt fantasizing about some intern from the upper floor who hadn’t yet been persuaded to work with him on Thursdays.

Vanessa opened the laundry bag she had previously slipped under her desk, gently allowing the huge snake out—the way its tongue wiggled, she could have sworn it had held a secretarial position before!

Out came Mr. Rebhorn’s vital fluid. As he opened his eyes to savor his work, he quickly understood there had been a slight staffing shift.

That month, his medical bill far outweighed his secretary’s. That turned out to be the least of his troubles.




Vanessa’s dogwood tree still gets scratched by the neighborhood kitties, but she doesn’t seem to mind as much as she used to.





Word count: 599 words
Prompt: There’s a nine-foot long Burmese python hanging from your (or a neighbor’s) tree.