We have freakin cobras over here. Yes, you heard it right. There are cobras in Afghanistan, what wonderful news to hear when you arrive. There is a poster in our building that has the poisonous snakes listed, with pictures. It is a bit disconcerting to see the cobra listed with a visual. There is even a poster that warns that cobras can get into the toilets. Believe it or not, there is a picture of a cobra in a freakin toilet. Seriously? Is someone just messing with me? Because that crap is serious. I mean a cobra in the toilet. It is bad enough that you are going to die quickly once bitten by a cobra. But, do you also have to lose all of your dignity as well.
“What happened to Tim in Afghanistan?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? He was bitten by a cobra.”
“Really?”
“Yeah”
“Where?”
“Uh, well, he was on the toilet.”
“On the what?”
“On the toilet.”
“He was bitten by a cobra while sitting on a toilet?”
“Yeah”
“Was the toilet outside?”
“No”
“I don’t understand.”
“He was sitting on a toilet. A cobra was in there and it bit him?”
“Where ?”
“Well, he was sitting on the toilet. I mean….the cobra just bit him.”
“Is he ok?”
“The cobra or Tim?”
“Tim!”
“No he’s dead.”
“He died?”
“Of course, it was a cobra.”
“But, he died on the toilet? He didn’t get shot by the Taliban?”
I actually stared at the picture of the cobra, in the toilet, on that poster. I said to my assistant, “Do you see that?” We were both puzzled. Guess what I do every time I got to the toilet. I check it for cobras, a practice I can’t wait to discontinue once back in the states.
Now when I stand a top the wall and look over at the farmers in the field next to us, I have a newly found respect for them. Cause those cobras are out there. There are other snakes here. I really don’t care. My eye is on the lookout for the one that spreads its head flat. I may not see one while I am here. I kind of would like to. But, that may be an adventure that would even cause me to shrink back a little.
I thought that the sand, the heat, the shower being 50 yards from my room, the toilets being 50 yards from my room, and other inconveniences were bad. I believe that the cobra has won out over all those.
“What happened to Tim in Afghanistan?”
“Oh, you didn’t hear? He was bitten by a cobra.”
“Really?”
“Yeah”
“Where?”
“Uh, well, he was on the toilet.”
“On the what?”
“On the toilet.”
“He was bitten by a cobra while sitting on a toilet?”
“Yeah”
“Was the toilet outside?”
“No”
“I don’t understand.”
“He was sitting on a toilet. A cobra was in there and it bit him?”
“Where ?”
“Well, he was sitting on the toilet. I mean….the cobra just bit him.”
“Is he ok?”
“The cobra or Tim?”
“Tim!”
“No he’s dead.”
“He died?”
“Of course, it was a cobra.”
“But, he died on the toilet? He didn’t get shot by the Taliban?”
I actually stared at the picture of the cobra, in the toilet, on that poster. I said to my assistant, “Do you see that?” We were both puzzled. Guess what I do every time I got to the toilet. I check it for cobras, a practice I can’t wait to discontinue once back in the states.
Now when I stand a top the wall and look over at the farmers in the field next to us, I have a newly found respect for them. Cause those cobras are out there. There are other snakes here. I really don’t care. My eye is on the lookout for the one that spreads its head flat. I may not see one while I am here. I kind of would like to. But, that may be an adventure that would even cause me to shrink back a little.
I thought that the sand, the heat, the shower being 50 yards from my room, the toilets being 50 yards from my room, and other inconveniences were bad. I believe that the cobra has won out over all those.
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