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Sounded like a good idea at the time.
As most ideas involving snakes and explosives do.
Frankly, anything with magic dynamite.
But after we locked ourselves in the bank vault
with the snakes and explosives,
we realized we should have worn raincoats.
Or at least some kind of clothes.
When the bank officials and police
opened the vault in the morning,
we complained bitterly about the poor lighting
in the bank’s men’s room
and about being locked in the men’s room
overnight by the janitor.
We explained out naked bodies being covered
by exploded snake bodies
as again the result of poor lighting.
From that point on we all vowed to lead
productive lives dedicated to thinking and
caring only of others.
But not snakes, whom we still got together
from time to time to blow up.
Years later, I still haven’t gone back to
that bank because of the poor lighting.