CALL ME SNAKE

I picked up a video somewhere and put it in the machine without knowing what it was. (NOTE TO MYSELF: Gotta stop doing that.) Some strange stuff came on the screen–people experiencing bad hair days to say the least, along with a freaked-out, nerve-jangling soundtrack. Amidst all the screaming and commotion, I was able to discern a not-so-veiled threat: I, and everyone else unlucky enough to be in the house at the time, would soon contract a hideous fungal affliction that could not, in any way, be avoided. Sure enough, I did get an itchy red patch on my bicep within a day or so. My wife got one on her back, my oldest daughter got it on the forearm, and my youngest girl took one on the shoulder. It’s a scary sight–sufficient to induce terror at the kiddie day camps and parks we frequent–but we seem to be on the mend with the help of an arsenal of antifungal products. Fortunately, I got rid of that damned video too, passing it off to our best friends who live around the corner. But we’d better not get too relaxed. I understand a sequel is already circulating and there may be a third installment in the works. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya’.