Herbert was six feet long and he was the worst thing Kyle’s mom had ever seen. A fully grown B. constrictor would be even longer, but Herbert had only been purchased two years ago.

Three years too many, if you asked Kyle’s mom. At first, a foot-long snake did seem pretty cute. The way it looked up when someone walked in Kyle’s room. The spasms as it wolfed down yet another whole baby mouse. The Christmas card sent out with a picture of Kyle draped in twenty pounds of scaly muscle, bone, and terror.

That last one was not so cute, and the reactions of friends and family were most likely the beginning of the end. The only problem was disposal; you couldn’t just flush a monstrous snake down the toilet like some alligator fallen out of favor. On top of that, Kyle just wouldn’t see the problems with a pet that might live longer than his parents.

But Kyle’s mom was sure that he wouldn’t mind hearing about the “snake farm” that Herbert would come to call home.

The local rabbit population might be even happier.