#standard ball python

[nohiketoosmall]

snakebrosbelike.jpeg

[mossiestpiglet]

Having some couch time with my good sweet boy Orville

[saltycharacters]

[ID: Digital and traditional art of a standard morph ball python named Udon. The 1st image features drawing studies, where Udon is carefully referenced from accompanying photos several times. Following this is a more cartoonish depiction of her drawn in Posca markers, one from afar and the other up close. She’s wearing a little santa hat, green bow, and has some snowflakes surrounding her. End ID]

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Udon!!!!!!!!

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Don't forget, help Palestine:

-> arab.org <- Click once a day for free

-> gazaesims.com <- Instructs how to donate esims

-> gazafunds.com <- Randomly selects a fundraiser for you to support

-> Fundraiser spreadsheet <- Lists Gazan fundraisers

-> Operation Olive Branch Spreadsheet <- Lists other ways to support

-> Resource link google doc <- Has tons of information and links

[nattikay]

a few people have mistaken Neynari for albino (she's actually leucistic) so here's a quick doodle of her with an actually albino Na'vi!

autistic infodumping about albinism vs. leucism under the cut (lots of cool animal pictures)

Albinism is a genetic condition that prevents the production of pigment, specifically melanin...which for mammals would be all pigment since mammals only produce melanins, but some types of reptiles, birds, etc. also have other types of pigments that are unaffected by albinism, which is why you can get, for example, an albino ball python that still has bright yellow markings. That's a tangent though, and yes I know that being aliens and all Na'vi skin is colored by "cyanin" not melanin but for simplicity's sake let's assume that the Pandoran equivalent to albinism affects cyanin the same as melanin in Earthen species, and since the Na'vi are clearly a mammalian equivalent let's assume that they don't have fancy extra types of pigment.

This lack of pigment production means that albino individuals end up with white hair/fur/feathers/scales and pinkish skin (it's unpigmented but will still appear pinkish instead of pure white because there's still red blood/muscle/etc. underneath. So, no, an albino Na'vi probably would not actually look like all those AI-generated "snow Na'vi" images floating around 😅)

It can also makes the eyes appear red or pink because without pigment in the way you can see the red of the blood vessels behind them. That said, depending on the opacity of the structures inside the eyes, this won't always be the case; if they are opaque enough you won't be able to see those blood vessels and the eyes will appear a pale gray or bluish.

Speaking of eyes, it turns out that the presence of melanin is actually pretty important in ocular development, so albino individuals often have impaired vision.

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Leucism, on the other hand, is an umbrella term that covers a range of conditions that cause partial lack of pigment in some way, shape, or form (as opposed to the total lack seen in albinism). Leucistic phenotypes can be quite varied depending on what's causing the pigment malfunction.

Some leucistic conditions cause a lack of pigment in hair/fur/feathers but not skin or eyes. This results in a white coat that is often mistaken for albino. The main way to distinguish this type of leucism from true albinism is to look at the eyes (and sometimes skin, like on the nose or pads). Leucistic conditions do not affect the eyes, so if the animal has a standard eye color for its species, it's leucistic, not albino. If it has red/pink or unusually pale grayish eyes along with pinkish skin, it's albino.

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Another leucism condition causes uneven distribution of pigment-producing cells, giving the individual normal coloration interspersed with unpigmented splotches. This condition is also known as piebald and can produce some really stunning patterns!

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Yet other leucism conditions reduce pigment production, but do not completely halt it. In other words, these individuals do produce pigments in all their integuments, just not as much as their standard-colored counterparts...so they retain most of their natural markings/patterning, but with a pale "washed-out" appearance (this is the type Neynari has!)

...so yeah, now you know :)

[wisteriagoesvroom]

LOL I can imagine for vampire au Lando starting to third wheel Carcar and so even though turning Franco is a complete accident he can’t feel too guilty bc he uses it as an excuse to hang around someone else, and somehow he learns more about vampirism lore through a human grad student than he’s learned in his whole life (he’s lived a long time, lots of info to absorb). Then also, if you don’t mind my ask, what do they all do for jobs/how do they get money and would Franco keep studying ?

HELP this is so cute. ok. norpinto-frando vampire au for those who aren't up to speed...

Lando starting to third wheel Carcar and so even though turning Franco is a complete accident, [Lando] can’t feel too guilty bc he uses it as an excuse to hang around someone else -> screaming cus, absolutely. random associated headcanons for this... i'll rewind a bit:

carlos is the oldest vampire, like, moorish/medieval era. he met lando while they were both at a masquerade ball in the early 1600s and smelled each other right away (carlos like wood and ink, lando like gas lamps and wet stone).

lando is an tudor era vampire. like he actually knew shakespeare and said he was one of the best viral marketers of the era

oscar was turned in the early days of the australian penal colony, he's like first or second generation white australian but he refuses to be called british. he moved in to the house because the rent was cheap and he doesn't feel the need to live extravagantly -- even though he, too, is $$ loaded $$

oscar didn't move in until about two decades ago - very short by vampire standards, to them it feels like yesterday - but carlos and oscar are basically They Were Roommates atp even though they squabble con-stant-ly

their neighbours think they are a new age-y polyam group but because the people who live opposite them are students, nobody ever hangs around longer than a year to remember them or dig deeper

so franco definitely brings a fun funky fresh dynamic

he learns more about vampirism lore through a human grad student than he’s learned in his whole life (he’s lived a long time, lots of info to absorb) -> things that baby vamp!franco teaches lando include

tiktok trends, like how to make ur teeth comically large in photos. lando finds this hilarious

how to use venmo

creating a roster on google docs for who needs to do what house chores

jailbreaking an apple watch so it doesn't read their pulses (they don't have any), but it will remind them of the moon phases and when they might be extra hungry to feed

at one point franco actually puts his academic skills to use and helps lando hunt down some of his family tree, because since lando was turned and it's been so long, he doesn't remember much about them : ( so one of franco's little gifts to lando is helping him trace his heritage

what do they all do for jobs/how do they get money and would Franco keep studying ? -> i love how practical-minded you are. um well let's say this fictional supernatural creatures' market mostly runs on barter trades and goodwill agreements. the entire house sometimes just gets lazy tbh so lando or carlos will just dig into one of the old chests of random shit and pull out an antique and go: "do we think this is worth anything?" then they take it to an antiques dealer who is also a mage (alex albon) and there is a 1 in 25 chance that the antique is actually is worth something, so that bankrolls them for another half a year or whatever.

carlos makes a lot of noise about being "an art dealer" just because he sold a goya painting to a museum once.

oscar is a man of industry, of the "newer" world (australia) etc etc so he spent the 80s and 90s learning C++ and Java and Python so he legit just codes for a living. or when he feels like it. oscar has helped launch at least a dozen startups under various pseudonyms and one of them is even a blue chip company by now. he doesn't do it for money tho. he just does it cus he likes a challenge, and otherwise fights with carlos too much. when he isn't coding he likes to tinker and fix things just for fun. like, he legit knows how to fix a boiler and stuff. his familiar is definitely a grumpy orange neighbourhood cat.

franco keeps studying!! he is such a nerd that he's like "i can totally learn everything about anything now, and i could in theory do like 20 masters degrees, and nobody can stop me"!! then lando is like, "well you might get bored of it after a while or burn out". but franco insists he will not. in fact with his enhanced neurological abilities he goes on an academic bender trying to fast forward through an entire harvard's undergrad degree's worth of material in a week, and he ends up faceplanting on his desk. and then poor lando has to go and find a fresh chicken or something to kill and revive franco 'cus franco wore himself out too fast being a bb vampire with accelerated mind powers.

franco promises never to do that again (but of course he will continue to do it once in a while, and everyone still looks after him in his lil study hangovers because he is so very nice. also he taught them how to use venmo.)

and. one time. franco is like. "i can't find this rare sonnet do you know what library i could maybe locate it in" and lando is like "wait i know that one" and pulls out an honest to god original copy that he at some point got laminated in the early 80s. and franco is like. "um i think this should be in a museum??" and lando is like "yeah but i gave them a copy of this, cus i spilled ink on the corner of this in 1603 after a really good night out" and franco is like "???? ok ????"

then lando swans off to moodily stare at the moon or some shit.

[maculategiraffe]

hello! was it difficult to socialize hildegard? have you ever been bit? does it hurt?

ball pythons are generally extremely docile and highly recommended for beginner snake owners because they have basically no aggressive instincts. their standard operating procedure when they think they might be under attack is to hide, under their own butts if necessary. so in terms of socializing her it was mostly about taking a little self woven basket of noodle out of her terrarium and putting her on our ankles under a blanket and then waiting for her to slooooooowly relax and uncoil and start exploring. by now she is completely unafraid of us and doesn't even flinch when we pet her head unless she didn't know we were there (she doesn't see very well so she flinches easily from any sudden movement in the vicinity of her face, more from instinct than actual nervousness I think). she likes my boyfriend better than me because his body is APPARENTLY the perfect temperature for warming her little tummy on and she will squiggle around until she finds his leg and then pile herself up on his shin and fall asleep.

the only time either of us has been bitten is once when my boyfriend went to feed her and she accidentally struck his hand instead of the rat. (we consider this user error on our part and fairly easy to avoid with proper use of rat tongs.) she let go immediately (unlike when she accidentally struck a towel near the rat she was aiming for and decided to just try and eat the towel instead) and the injury was extremely minimal. teeny tiny pinpricks that only broke the skin because of the force of her strike. her teeth are soft and flexible, somewhat like toothbrush bristles, and she isn't venomous, so a bite isn't a big deal unless she is actively trying to swallow you whole, and even then it's mainly a problem for her. there are tips and tricks online for getting a really determined and misguided ball python to let go of something they have decided they are going to eat, including a finger, but I've never had to try any of them and even then I think for the finger in question it's more like being caught in one of those little finger trap toys than being devoured by a beast.

she's definitely the best and prettiest and most wonderful noodle in the whole world but other ball pythons are probably pretty good too

[inventors-fair]

Asp-irations

Wizards has put out promos in the past in celebration of the Lunar New Year—most recently, the Dragon, Rabbit, and Tiger. This year? It's the year of the snake! Personally, I love snakes. They're curious, they're smooth, they're gorgeous little guys all around, absolutely one of my favorite animals. If you have a fear of snakes, then you might want to shy away, because this week...

Design a snake-themed card—no format restrictions!

NB: "no format restrictions" means that you can design for multiplayer formats, notably Commander. You do not have to design for Commander, and may still design for Standard/Modern/etc. The intent here is to give folks a little more mechanical wiggle room if desired. Festivities!

The criteria for this contest is more open-ended, but as long as snakes and/or snake-theming is involved, you're good! The snakier the better. If that just means designing a cool snake, I'm with you all the way.

What could snake-theming mean if you're designing a noncreature spell of some kind? What colors could you see snakes in besides (or in addition to) their traditional green? What aspects of snakehood—snakedom? Snakeosity?—appeal to your creative juices?

Hope you have a ball! (python) @abelzumi

>> Desktop Submissions >> Mobile Submissions/Asks >> IF Discord

[ceratosaurtalks]

Sun time with my Ball Python[Lesser morph].<3

This snake is a real sweetheart. I find BPs pretty boring honestly, not a huge fit more me. But this individual was so full of personality I ended up falling in love with him. Apollo was a emergency rehome! We call him Link as well sometimes because he has a triforce on him.

Obligatory funfact section;

Ball Pythons are semi-aboreal and do better in enclosures that offer ample climbing opportunities. Male BPs are actually more aboreal than Females tend to be- of course you'll occasionally have outliers, these animals can develop individual personalities and sometimes you'll get a female who likes to climb as much as a male or vice versa. My male BP is very much a standard male in that regards, I rarely ever see him touching the ground in his enclosure and he values his elevated hiding spots and basking spots more than his ground spots.

[omg-snakes]

Do you find corn snakes have more personality than some other species?

Hey friend!

Well... Hmm. I don't know that I'd say more personality. I'd say more of the personality traits I personally gravitate towards.

All snakes have personalities and individual preferences and avoidances. I've worked professionally with large snakes, small snakes, and venomous snakes and no two of the same species were exactly alike in terms of temperament. The old belief that a ball python is a living "pet rock" has been dispelled by simply giving these animals appropriate enclosures. Most of the animals we consider "less intelligent" or "primal" by human standards lead rich inner lives that we just can't anthropomorphize into something personally relatable.

North American ratsnakes are generalist hunters, not ambush predators, and they are often secondary or tertiary consumers in their food webs, meaning they're both predator and prey. They are active and curious, sometimes verging on anxious. They want to know what's going on, who's nearby, what they're doing. Is it food? Is it danger?

They tend to rely on crypsis and threat displays for defense, meaning they do not benefit in nature by being overtly aggressive. This makes them a great candidate for captive keeping. The corn snakes we keep in captivity have been selectively bred for tameness and calmness along with color expression over many generations, amplifying their natural proclivity for being pretty chill with humans.

The more time you spend learning about and interacting with an animal, the better you know that animal, right? I gravitated towards corn snakes because of their variety of color morphs and ease of keeping and I've kept corn snakes for 15 years or more, both professionally and as a hobby. Maybe I like the snakes in genus Pantherophis best because I've spent the most time with them and I know their expressions and behaviors well enough to be able to read them.

I'm sure if you were to ask an alternate universe version of me who kept Burmese pythons the same question, I'd give roughly the same answer.

[minmos]

the standard green ball python eye is such a lovely color

[tearlessrain]

the thing about me is I'm morally very opposed to color breeding to the point that I don't believe coloration should be a part of any breed standard for any domesticated species (different breeds are a thing because certain conformation/personality traits are desirable for certain jobs an animal might do, and 99.9% of the time its color is completely irrelevant to that and having to adhere to specific colors just encourages line breeding and reduces the wellbeing and functionality of the animals), but I also desperately want to know what crazy colors/patterns every possible wild animal could express if APH or ball python people got hold of it for a few decades. I want to know all the color genetics. I will also be very disappointed in humanity if I actually get the answers I want.

[angrenwen]

"If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon"

The Van Has Officially Declared It Spooky Season

---

I've got my parent's van for the week and it seems determined to establish my status as The Local Cryptid by terrorizing an innocent 7-11 clerk.

...I might need to back up a bit.

My mother is an eminently sensible woman who knows herself well, and when The Plauge hit, she knew she'd need some sort of mentally and physically engaging craft project to keep herself from going insane and massacring the local zoning and water management boards (even if they have it coming). So she and Dad acquired a utility van and converted it into a camper van because while they love camping, they're past the age where their joints and immune systems will tolerate sleeping on the cold ground in a nylon tent.

They did a terrific job of it and my mom taught herself woodworking and carpentry and now the van has it's own cabinets, fold-away dining table, and removable queen-sized bed with memory foam mattress. My Dad was already a computer engineer, but he learned the dark magics of automotive software and electronics to install after-market backup cameras, a media player that would take a terabyte hard drive and a solar-powered battery and outlet so they could wake up and just turn on the kettle and griddle for breakfast without having to exit the van into a cold morning on an empty stomach.

Truly, the height of Camping Luxury.

My parents are both in their mid-seventies and my primary life goal is to be at least half as cool and hale as they are when I get old.

Anyway, they take it out at least a dozen times a year and it works fabulously, but, being as I am on good terms with my parents and also finishing the process of moving house, I've been borrowing it to move large and cumbersome objects that will not fit in the back of my equally lovely but minuscule Honda hatchback.

It's a Great Van. Very easy and comfortable to drive. Stunningly good MPG for it's size. The best cruise control I've ever had in a car.

It's just also. Quirky. Mischievous, even.

---

If this van has a fault its that it bears the unfortunate affliction that all lightly used white utility vans have in that the combination of an utter lack of branding features and the large dent/scrape I accidentally put on it while trying to escape a Denny's last Thanksgiving means that this vehicle is one addition of a Badly Spray-Painted "FREE CANDY" on the side away from being the sort of vehicle you see in an edgy horror movie.

It's got the same issue that Doberman Dogs have where they look like the sort of creature that likes to snack on toddler's faces whilst actually having personalities made of marshmallow fluff. This vehicle is unnecessarily menacing and I think nothing short of an airbrushed Epic Van Wizard will correct this. People see this van pull up and lean over and squint suspiciously at me when the driver's side door opens, and then look moderately confused when, instead of Charles Manson, a small, potato-shaped creature with neon purple hair and a statistically unlikely assortment of dogs emerges.

My own two dogs, Herschel the Hanukkah Goblin/Corgi and Charleston Chew The Taco Dumpster Dog, Do Not Like The Van. Even with the bed in it, they have a tendency to slide and roll around in the back, and both WILL chew through dog saftey belts or other attempts to secure them in there.

On the other hand, my house mate's dog, an exceptionally tall standard poodle whom we lovingly call "The Creature", loves the Van because SHE wears her doggy seat-belt with only mild complaining and gets to sit up in the passenger seat like A People.

Also like A People, The Creature likes to stand and walk around on her hind legs. It doesn't hurt her and it's entirely voluntary, but every so often I will feel a hand on my arm and instead of my husband or friend, it's a canine that's taller than I am on her hind legs who wants to stare at my face with soulful, concerned eyes. The Creature's favorite thing is that she is exactly the right height for me to hold her arm in Genteel Fashion and walk around the pet food or hardware store with her like I'm a count escorting a debutante around a royal ball.

---

As it stands, I am set to inherit this vehicle whenever my Honda gives up the ghost, and I fully intend to paint an Epic Van Wizard on it when that time comes.

The other peculiarity of The Van is that while Dad did manage to successfully install all his after-market electronics, not all the electronics get along. Sometimes, they fight for Dominance. The Terabyte Music Player and the Backup Camera have a particularly contentious relationship, and turning on the music has about a 25% chance of turning on the backup camera as well, and turning on the Backup Camera is equally likely to turn on the music.

Firthermore, The Van has a favorite song.

I am not kidding that Dad filled an entire terabyte hard drive with music and the software to sort it via the radio controls, but of all the Early Boomer Dad Rock (Kingston Trio over The Eagles) and Irish Folk and Symphonies and the entire discography of Weird Al Yankovic, The Van's favorite song- The one it picks to play as victory music every time it beats the Backup Camera at their weird electronic game of rock-paper-scissors -is The Liberty Bell March by John Phillip Sousa.

You all know this song already.

...but in case you've forgotten the tune:

Yeah.

The Van's favorite song is the goddamn Monty Python's Flying Circus Theme Music.

It does not play this song at a normal volume.

Every time I turn on the Backup Camera and it manages to turn the music player on as well, The Van insists on absolutely blasting this nonsense on at the maximum volume it's physically capable of producing, which I know is loud enough to be heard from the Denver International Airport's Pickup zone when they Van decided to start playing it from the economy lot about half a mile away.

Perhaps it's The Van's way of honoring the aesthetic sensibilities and sonic enthusiasm of Mr. Sousa.

...I can't help but wonder if the purpose of an Epic Van Wizard is to control this sort of faerie-like malarkey, and channel these chaotic energies into things like Spell of Don't Break Down In Nevada or Enchantment Of Always Have Good Parking.

---

So last Friday the 13th, I get a call from my friend and housemate, at said airport.

It's roughly 11PM at night, and I have already retired for the evening. I am in the exact minimum of clothing required to be a decent housemate and not scandalize the neighbors should I happen to walk by a window. My feet are up. There is a cat in my lap and fictional British people murdering each other in highly inventive fashion on the tv. -But my friend has returned from her friend's wedding,and either American or United Airlines has managed to lose her luggage, including, among other valuable possessions, the keys to her car. ...So she cannot just drive home as originally planned.

There are, as luck would have it, her spare set of keys not eight feet from me.

Being a good and decent person, I agree to bring the spare keys to her so she may get home before daybreak and not spend a semester's worth of tuition on an uber across the greater Denver traffic jam.

Being also that she Loves Activities, and it's her mom we're going to pick up, I elect to take along The Creature.

I am primarily focused on remembering how to get to the airport and not leaving my friend's spare keys on the counter, so I throw on a pair of flip-flops, step outside, remember that it's AUTUMN and my minimal evening attire is not sufficient thermal protection, step back in, grab the first coat in the closet I lay hands on, pull it on, check that I have her keys again and leave.

The trip to the airport is largely unremarkable, save that it becomes necessary for me to put on sunglasses to drive, despite it being nearly the witching hour and almost entirely darker than the inside of a cow.

It's necessary because this blissful darkness of night is violently punctured by a startling number of cars that seem to have installed miniaturized but no less powerful lighthouse bulbs in where their headlights ought to go so the oncoming traffic and sports cars that insist on tailgating me in the slow lane alike illuminate the road and my mirrors with the kind of radiance I'd normally associate with the arrival of a Seraphim.

I arrive at the distant highly discounted airport car lot where my housemate is waiting, deeply apologetic. It's nothing. I say. Once I see that your car starts up, I'm gonna go to that 7-11 across the way that I parked in front of, get a slurpee or something and I'll see you at home.

While she is retrieving her vehicle (an equally eccentric but much more stately Subaru that is old enough to be elected to congress) I rifle through the loose change in the glove box and discover that I have exactly $6.66 in small bills and coins. The Subaru, continuing it's long voyage into vehicular immortality, immediately starts up.

Upon her return, we all remember that my friend had all her camping gear in the backseat of the car and there is no room for The Creature to ride home with her parent, so I again assure her it's nothing, and will just take The Creature into the 7-11 with me. She is trained as a service animal and needs the practice after the plague.

I wave my friend off and turn to enter the 7-11.

I promptly trip over the jutting back bumper of The Van and fall, cartoonishly, face-first onto the sidewalk.

Fortunately, I have a lot of practice falling on my face, and have learned not to throw my hands out but instead cover my face, so my unexpected self-inflicted attempted curb-stomping lightly scrapes my hairline and nothing else -my sunglasses even stay in place- and I get up and resume my quest for a slurpee.

It's well known that the airport is a lawless place, and the 7-11 across from the discounted airport parking at the stroke of midnight is no exception.

I know it's the stroke of Midnight because there's one of those Audubon society bird-call clocks that makes bird noises, and my arrival is heralded by the twittering call of a Summer Tanager. I am almost charmed enough by the unusual choice of chronological device to excuse the exorbitant Airport-adjacent mark-up of Slurpee prices. I stand at the machine for some time, trying to decide on a size for the price and guess what the fuck "Blue Lighting Blast" is supposed to taste like.

The Creature is being Very Polite but is somewhat agitated, I assume because she *just* saw her mother for the first time in three days and then she LEFT with no explanation, so The Creature is on her hind legs, staring woefully into my eyes, asking to be escorted around the 7-11. Even though that's not what she's not supposed to be doing, there's nobody else in here, so I let her hang off my arm and discuss various Slurpee Flavor options with her.

We eventually decide on an experiment in which I try a Small Blue Lightning Blast, and discover it tastes a bit like licking a nintendo cartridge but in a pleasantly satisfying way.

I go up to pay and realize something is amiss.

The Cashier is a young man staring at me with wide eyes, one had over the register and the other wrapped up in his rosary.

I look down at myself.

In my haste to reunite my friend with her spare keys and service animal, I had left the house in the following accoutrements:

Flip Flops. Not matching. It's below freezing outside. That last part is not particularly odd footwear for the weather in for Colorado, but it's an important detail for the rest of the ensemble.

Assorted scrapes, bruises, cuts and welts on my arms and legs that come with doing outdoor work and living in a house with three dogs and a fully-clawed cat that all want to be in my lap all the time. It's cold out, so vasoconstriction has pulled the blood away from my skin, a trait that served my ancestors well during the last Ice Age, but leaves me with pale skin to contrast the various wounds and I look like a corpse that fell out of the back of a pickup truck.

The black Bootyshorts with "CRYPTID" painted in bright red gothic font across my ass, that @theshitpostcalligrapher gave me for my wedding present.

A peculiar but extremely comfortable garment that straddles the line between "Lacy Camisole" and "Industrial-Strength Sports Bra" like the Ever Given straddling the Suez Canal. It is also Bright Red. with black accents.

The Jacket I had grabbed out of the closet, which is in fact, a black Velour Dinner Jacket.

The Tokyo-Ghoul inspired reusable anti-covid mask a friend made me with the set of Coyote Teeth.

My sunglasses, which are shaped like a Halloween Bat. The lenses are the wings and the body is the nose bridge. It is ALSO bright red.

A Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle that I have been audibly affectionately calling "Dear Creature" who is hanging off my arm like she's my Prom Date.

The Very Large and remarkably Humanoid Poodle is ALSO dressed up in a black Dog Sweater that has white bones printed on it to look like its an X-ray jacket showing off her skeleton.

I look like I am taking my Very Fancy Werewolf Girlfriend to a particularly casual Dinner Party for Vampires, but the thing that's really selling it and probably alarming the kid the most is the fun accessory I acquired in the parking lot not five minutes earlier:

The "Small Scrape At my Hairline" is actually a painless but PROFUSELY bleeding head wound that I had somehow entirely failed to notice covering my face, neck, decolletage and magnificent cleavage with blood like a Tarantino Film Extra.

This does explain why The Creature has been delicately trying to use her bodyweight to push me down onto the floor for the last ten minutes. So I don't injure myself while we wait for the paramedics she hoped this kid called to arrive, you see.

The Creature has such a High and Naive Opinion of humanity.

I decide this social situation is already fucked, and the only way out is through, and with haste, before I start dripping on the floor.

"Hi there!" I say cheerfully, to indicate this is a visually alarming but not terribly serious situation. "Just a Small Slurpee!"

The Cashier has entered the relevant code into the register before I finish the sentence. His gaze flicks off me just long enough to look at the total, and he grips his Rosary harder.

$6.66

"Oh cool! I have exact change!" I say, taking the money out of my as-yet-unsanguined pocket without looking and slap it down on the counter. "You have a good night and be safe out there!" I wave, leaving.

I get in The Van, mortified, buckle The Creature up, and as I make to leave, I have to put it in reverse, which automatically turns on the backup Camera.

It also turns on the music player.

I make eye contact with the cashier as the dulcet tones of John Phillip Sousa boom from the van hard enough to make the windshield and the windows of the 7-11 rattle for the nine-and-a-half seconds I have to wait to be able to turn the volume back down. Not knowing what else to to, I give him a thumbs up, and leave.

Anyway, now I know what my Future Van Wizard has got to be dressed like, and what their familiar is.

---

If you enjoyed this story, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Funny Stories book on Patreon

[boscoebros]

Bulwer Lytton 2024

April 9, 2025 by Terry Odell

Following up Debbie’s post with some more humor, something I think is lacking in our lives these days. I’m sharing some of the winners of the 2024 Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest. These entries, I believe, are all of the human generated variety. If you’re unfamiliar with the contest, here’s the skinny from the website:

“Since 1982 the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest has challenged participants to write an atrocious opening sentence to the worst novel never written. The whimsical literary competition honors Sir Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, whose 1830 novel Paul Clifford begins with “It was a dark and stormy night.” The contest receives thousands of entries each year, and every summer our Panel of Undistinguished Judges convenes to select winners and dishonorable mentions for such categories as Purpose Prose and Vile Puns.”

2024 Grand Prize

**She had a body that reached out and slapped my face like a five-pound ham-hock tossed from a speeding truck. Lawrence Person, Austin, TX

Grand Panjandrum’s Special Award

**Mrs. Higgins’ body was found in the pantry, bludgeoned with a potato ricer and lying atop a fifty-pound sack of Yukon golds, her favorite for making gnocchi, though some people consider them too moist for this purpose. Joel Phillips, West Trenton, NJ

 Crime & Detective

Winner

**She was poured into the red latex dress like Jello poured into a balloon, almost bursting at the seams, and her zaftig shape was awesome to behold, but I knew from the look on her face and the .45 she held pointing at me, that this was no standard client of my detective agency, but a new collection agency tactic to get me to pay my long-overdue phone bill. Jack Harnly, Sarasota, FL

Dishonorable Mentions

**Magnus was in a tough spot…the Icelandic Police were pressing him to cough up the name of the top capo in each of the 3 main cities in which the Mafia operated—Reykjavik, Akureyri, and Middelf—threatening to lock him away for life if he didn’t, but he knew that if he ratted out the Reykjavikingur or the Akureyringur the Mob would kill him for sure—so he just gave them the Middelfingur. Mark Meiches, Dallas, TX

(Personal note: I’ve actually been to Akureyri, but don’t ask me how to pronounce it.)

**That sweltering Friday evening she not so much walked but slithered into my shabby strip mall P.I. office, showing off all her curves, and I knew then I was in for a weekend of trouble because Dave’s Reptile Emporium next door, from which the ball python had escaped, was closed until Monday. Douglas Purdy, Roseville, CA

**Staring unblinkingly into the pleading, tear-filled eyes of yet another dame looking for me to solve all her problems, I sighed, stretched, scratched my whiskers, stuck my hind leg in the air and bent my spine at a 45-degree angle to reach down and lick my butt clean, then donned my fedora—Taco, Cat Detective, was officially on the case. Gwen Simonalle, Grenoble, France

There are many more categories. You can find everything here.

Any favorites? Have you ever entered?

[thedruidsdenexotics]

An Introduction

Hi, I'm Kat and I'm the person behind The Druid's Den.

I've loved reptiles since I was quite little. I kept anoles and a ball python through my elementary and middle school years. I got out of the hobby in high school. I wanted to get back into reptiles in my mid-20's. I was living in apartments at the time and didn't like the idea of having to move a glass terrarium whenever we got priced out of an apartment after a couple of years.

Fast forward to now. My husband and I have purchased a house, with a room that I can turn into a reptile room. Having not kept reptiles since the early 00's, I have learned that everything that was standard for keeping reptiles back then is now archaic. But that's not a bad thing, as zoo-level equipment is now available on the standard market for affordable pricing. Such as UVB lighting and automatic misting systems.

I have always loved the reptile house at the Denver and the Rosmond-Gifford (Syracuse) zoos and aspired to having something similar in my house. I also always loved the movie Ferngully and the lore behind the Wood Elf race in Dungeons and Dragons of living with nature and not just on it.

This is the inspiration for The Druid's Den. I want to have a company that allows people the ability to transfigure parts of their home to allow for slices of nature, while being accessible to the newest herpetologist. Where people can't only get the best cared for animals but provide the ability to start with (or upgrade) their environment to allow for the best experience with these amazing creatures.

That's what this blog is all about. You'll get updates of what we're working on and my general thought-stream about it.

Thank you for joining us for our journey. I hope that you enjoy your time at The Den.

[sapphira-mydnyte]

♥Shy Snake King♥

Warning: Snake, pain infliction, emotional overload.

Sebastian knows Ominis is deserving of being loved & he knows who his crush is. He means no harm, but Ominis is super shy & hates it when Sebastian tries to rush things. Ominis wants to take it slow & really work on not being so shy around the one he wants, but coming from such an abusive household that thrives on dark magic makes it extremely hard for him. He doesn't want the girl he really wants to be put off by his family, nor the fact that he's a parselmouth. Although she's accepting of it, there's always going to be a part of him that's scared. That underlying fear is that you won't like him when he gets cranky or that his family will come after you. He just doesn't want any harm to come to his girl, nor for her to have a reason to hate him. He knows his animagus form is a snake of some sort because he's an heir & Ominis, loving as he is, doesn't want his girl to be scared of him when he turns into whatever snake he truly is. He hopes he's a ball python though, a very cute one & not any bigger than he is at his full height for the length of the snake.

Sebastian, being playful & meaning no harm, pushed the poor blond a little too hard. The blue-eyed heir nearly fell into a kiss on the girl he had the biggest crush on & it unnerved him entirely! "SEBASTIAN!! Get your ass back here!! You're gonna pay for that!! YOU KNOW BETTER!!" Embarrassed with a full blush on his face, he gave chase to the mischievous brunette Scotsman. Ominis was NOT having his own best friend ruin that kiss for him & that was too damned close for his comfort! "I'm the heir you idiot!! You know damned well that I have a standard!!" He fired a few shots of Depulso at Sebastian, but he dodged the spells with ease & pulled up his shield in a full run for the last one. "Come on then Ominis! I know you're better than that! You want her that bad? Huh? Do you?!" Sebastian was just slightly shorter than Ominis, but he was the better runner, which irked Ominis to no end. He had the longer stride, but Sebastian had that little extra muscle to him thanks to all the running around he did with his sister.

As for the lovely lady that had stolen Ominis' heart? She was stunned that Sebastian was that brash about it, but thought it hilarious as Ominis tore across the field & getting closer by the second as they headed for the doors to the Great Hall. "Oh, Sebastian... what am I going to do with you & Ominis?" She couldn't help but laugh at Ominis' reaction, as he was clearly not ready to make a move that quick & nearly knocked his best friend down with his sharp aim. "Oh Ominis... don't take it too hard on Sallow... he knows where your heart lies & wants you happy, plus, I don't think Anne will like it if you torch his eyebrows again." She walked towards the Great Hall, following the Slytherin boys a mile behind. Sebastian may have rushed it a bit, but she knew how to make it better. With a little smirk on her face, she strutted through the doors of the Great Hall. "Pretty boy Gaunt has no idea what he's in for later... not in the slightest." Her plan? Sneak the gorgeous blond out & give him that much needed kiss in the Undercroft after locking the door behind them. Sebastian wasn't going to ruin his moment like he said & she'd make sure that the proud heir was made into a boyfriend before the sun rose the next morning. ♥

Kabedon

Sebastian really wants to intervene in his best friend's romance🤣

[ceratosaurtalks]

Is there such thing as a "Beginner Snake"?

This is a topic Ive talked to a lot of people about. A lot of different breeders, and a lot of long-term keepers. When you think 'Beginner snake' A lot of the species that come to mind are things like Corn snakes, Ball pythons, Kingsnakes, ect. And a lot of people feel limited based on their experience and the false connotation that these species are really the only species that they can get based on care requirements.

However, it is widely agreed up that this really isn't true? Yes some species are easier to keep than others. Yes, some species should only be kept by advanced keepers who know how to handle animals that don't have room for mistakes. But there are other species beyond the most common sp. Available on the market that might be better suited for someone.

The issue with 'Beginner snakes' Isn't that they're particularly hard to keep. All snakes have their 'problems' and Quirks, I.E Balls are known for going on long hunger strikes if their husbandry isn't up to standards and in extreme cases, that means assist feeding which a lot of people are uncomfortable with. The problem often comes from the keeper getting an animal that they will rapidly loose interest in and rehome or neglect within a few years. Ive been open about this but I've taken in a lot of rehomes of various quality and health in my time, and if you follow me from Discord you've probably seen some pictures of some of my more... Unique, rehomes Ive picked up in the past.

When it comes to choosing your first pet snake you should figure out what you want and what you're expecting out of your animal. I think in my year of keeping, the best things you should ask yourself are these:

Do I want an animal I can take out and chill with? That won't be moving around a whole bunch? Or do I want an animal to that is more active, that will be interesting to Handle but won't typically sit still?

Do I want an animal that I can handle in the first place? Does handling play a factor for me? What is my budget? What is the reasonable sized space I can set aside for an animal that I want? What kind of temperament do I expect out of my animal? Do I want a display animal? Do I want an animal I can watch move about its enclosure and be active or do I want an animal I don't mind seeing a whole lot of?

Ultimately, different sp. Of snakes are vastly different from each other. And these behaviors *can and will* change based off the husbandry you're providing them. If you have a big empty enclosure with a hide or two and maybe a singular piece of decor, yeah, your BP is probably going to be a pet rock. They're semi-arboreal and Nocturnal, give them lots of climbing opportunities and cover and they'll be more inclined to explore.

King snakes and Milksnakes are a joy to handle and a even bigger joy to feed. I've kept Honduran Milks and Ive shared pictures of my Honduran Milks, theyre super active, always on the move, and when it comes to feeding sometimes I make them work for their food because they will peruse prey. A lot of Kingsnakes are the same way.

And beyond that, there are other sp. of animals that are not unreasonable for someone starting out to keep. Childrens Pythons are a *fantastic* sp. Of snake to get into and can be full of spunky personality. And if you want something that's an absolute treat to interact with, the Rosie Boa might be the best thing for you!

Theres tons. And I do mean tons. Of available sp. of Reptiles out there for you to enjoy. Find one thats going to fit your needs that isn't completely unreasonable, and research into it before you make any decisions for yourself. I cant stress this enough: Always do your research!

There is tons and tons of misinformation and outdated information about Herp keeping. There are people who will lie to you about an animals care to make a sale. The best thing you can do for yourself and for your animal is to *not* get all your information from one source. Use multiple credited sources. Join actual communities of keepers and private breeders and talk to them about their experiences and how they do things. Find forums, join discords or (vetted, trustworthy) Facebook communities. Watch some Youtube videos from (respected) content creators. Take a look on Morph Market, browse through whats commonly available.

This isn't to encourage you to do something stupid. No ones first snake should be a Hot(Medically-significant Venomous animal), or a unreasonable giant like a Reticulated Python. Just be reasonable, and don't be afraid to reach out to people and ask questions.

Tl;dr: Yes and no, there are animals that are easier to keep than other and some animals that are unreasonable to start with. But, whats more important is making sure whatever animal you pick is a good match for you as an individual and not because its the 'easiest'.