The other day I had a happening that made me think about a primal scream. Screams play a big part in our lives. For example, you only need to hear The Blonde in the house should a roach have the temerity to show its ugly nose in our house. However, even that scream is not the intensity that I am attempting to bring to everyone’s attention.
Screams do affect us. Old Edvard Munch even did a drawing entitled “The Scream.” Kind of a creepy painting if you ask me. I understand there is even “Primal Scream Therapy”. However, I am dealing here with a real primal scream. No, I am not referring to the rock group by that name even though listening to them would make me want to scream. My thought lies more with the unexpected scream that raises not only the hair on your neck, but your whole head, arms and legs (if any is there). In other words it gets your immediate attention.
I mention the above because just the other day, I came close to the nirvana of primal screams – and it happened right in our own home – although not by The Blonde in the house.
We had guests and were following them out the front door. We did not get very far as the lady in the lead let out an almost perfect primal scream. In fact, it would probably take an expert to determine how close to the ultimate it was. It did raise all the hair mentioned above on all the folks in the house, and probably within several blocks.
Darn, I wish that I had had a recording device with me so that I could send the result to some big scientific institution. We all could probably have become famous – her for the scream and the rest of us for surviving it. Now since you have come this far, you are probably the “nebby” type and want to know what caused this notable scream. (In case you are not from Western Pennsylvania or nearby, “nebby” is a familiar term that essentially means that you want to know what the heck is going on.) Since I understand nebbyness, I will explain.
When you see the explanation, you will, I know, agree that the near primal scream was fairly well justified. What occurred when the lady mentioned above opened the door was that she was met by a terrifying sight.There glaring at her with a sinister smile (so she said) was a three foot long (she said much longer) black racer. When the scream filled the surrounding air, that poor snake took off for the nearest bush. After calm more or less settled in, the going home traffic was redirected through the garage to the waiting cars.
We brave guys then went around front to see if we could find Mr. Sinister. It was not hard as one of the bushes was quaking – I told you that poor snake was scared. We determined after some scientific review of the situation that the racer would take off for parts unknown as soon as he got over the shakes and no one was around. It apparently happened that way as we have not seen hide nor skin of that snake since. I did talk to a neighbor a few block away the next day, and he told me about a three foot racer that tore through his yard. He said that he knew racers could move, but he never saw one go like that.
The whole situation makes me think back to the beginning of mankind. I mean how did Eve even approach the snake to talk to him? I guess it is possible that back then snakes were cuddly and cute. I bet if we had a picture of a snake from that time, someone could make a bunch of money selling stuffed cuddly snakes. It would probably put the teddy bear people out of business. Can’t you think how pleased your significant other would be on Valentine’s Day if you gave her a plush stuffed snake?
Nah, I can’t either.
Barry Evans writes about Life in The Villages.
