Word. Peace Out, Pops. 

My father HATES snakes. Rather like Indiana Jones hates snakes, only more vehemently. When I was little, a black snake got into our farm house. I vividly recall his unrelenting flow of profanity as my dad chased it around the first floor, while my mom, brother, and I looked down from the upstairs hall. Without going into gory details, the snake…