Python

It must feel like hell, to get swallowed whole...

photo by Pixabay

This story is fiction. If you’re not into fiction, then no need to read it.

Python

There is an old African legend. Two pythons attacked the same prey, an antelope, and each started to swallow it, one from each end.  They met each other in the middle. Pythons can not unswallow; their teeth only allow for them to keep swallowing. After a moment contemplating the conundrum, the larger python kept going, swallowing both the antelope and the smaller python.

Is it a true story?  Does it matter?  Legends, like fables, teach a lesson.  It is the lesson that is true. Count on it.

Honestly, I never figured to be much. People have fantasies of being rock stars and such.  And I’ve had them, too. Others will chase those dreams, but not me; there is too much inertia in my spirit.  I can hope and dream with the best of them. I don’t try and fail.  I don’t try.

That is just a recognition of reality.  I’m not coming down on myself, I’m just recognizing the truth.  I’m comfortable with it.  No stress, no mess.

And let’s face it, I have nothing to stress about.  My name is Larry Cantrell.  Yes, those Cantrells. I’m not in a direct line with the big man, Arnie Cantrell, I’m his nephew on my father’s side.  Close enough. I’ll never have to have a real job.

Sure, I go into the plant, pretend to research improved production methods, and talk occasionally with the production manager, Walt Mathews, who pretends to think that anything I say matters.  It’s all a game, but it suits me.

I’ve lived in this town most of my twenty-eight years. Except for two years at a party school upstate.  OK, we’re already upstate, but the school is even farther upstate. This town, Lakemont, is nice enough; too small to be a city, too big to be one of those towns where everybody knows each other.  But not by much.  I suppose I know half the people in this town.  And everybody knows the Cantrells.

I was looking forward to an easy enough life, but then a strange, unexpected thing happened.  My uncle died. All things considered, apart from the fact that I kind of liked the guy, and he always liked me, his death shouldn’t have upset the apple cart too much. He hadn’t been directly active in the business in years; it would be all right. His son, my cousin, had been running things, and doing it well for years. Small towns can sink or swim based on one main guy and his ability to run things. But we all knew that the town could carry on without Uncle Lou.

So, no particular angst at his death, but it was something of a surprise, since he had been healthy, and he was only in his sixties.  Que sera, and all that. The surprise to me was, Uncle Lou left me a small fortune. I was happy enough to have a secure, do-nothing job for the rest of my life.  I never expected an inheritance. That changes things.  What should I do now?  Just keep on plugging?  Move?  Travel the world? All of that requires initiative; I was figuring I might not ever change a thing, even with the choices I had available.

Uncle Lou’s will was not public, but in a small town, everybody knows. I got some congratulations; I bought some rounds at the bar. I bought a LOT of rounds at the bar.  I was always fairly popular, but now I am more popular. And here, I think, is where it started going to hell.

“Cherchez la femme”, they say.  Well, how about two femmes?  I had dated Michelle, back in high school.  I kind of liked her, but she wasn’t the type to get too attached.  She played with me for a while, discovered that my last name didn’t get her anyplace much, so she moved on. I’ve always had a soft spot, but she’s just not the type you want to try to get attached to.  I knew it then; I know it now. And now, she’s interested in me again.

And suddenly, Mary wanted to know me better. She was the school ‘good girl’.  She was the head cheerleader, student council president, and all-around do gooder. She got married, had two kids, but then got divorced.  I really think it was his fault, but then Mary can be a bit much. It must be hard to live with a woman who wants everything to be perfect and will work relentlessly to achieve it. I think, with the divorce, Mary had to adjust her priorities all the way down to becoming interested in me.

That’s right, I have two women chasing after me. Don’t get me wrong.  I’ve never been a loner and I’ve never had a problem with women. They come and go from my life, but then again, I come and go from theirs.  It all works out.  Life moves on.

I couldn’t resist when Michelle approached me in the bar.  I was sitting with some of my usual cohort of friends, and she pulled out a chair and sat beside me.

“Buy me a beer.”

I hadn’t bought her a beer in years. There had been no reason to.  Anyway, I bought her a beer. The others at the table smirked.  They could see it coming.

“Long time, no see, Michelle,” Mike said.  “At least at this table.”

Michelle sucked on her beer and then smiled. “I guess I’ve been busy.  Anyway, it’s good to visit with you guys again.  We have some catching up to do.”  Michelle turned to me. “Right, Larry?”

I glanced at Mike and the others, who were more amused than anything.  “Right,” I said. What else was there to say?

So, the evening ended as one might expect when two former lovers rediscover each other. I’m a reasonably intelligent guy, and I’ve been around.  But perhaps I can be forgiven for not seeing what I didn’t want to see, even when I should have known better. Who can resist the reigniting of an old flame?

Mary. What a perfect name for such a perfect woman. Even with my family name and the status that it always imparted to me, I always felt like a lesser person in the presence of Mary.  She was the real deal. She took charge of her life and of the situation around her, while I simply faked it. She may be the only person I ever knew who attached no significance to my family name. It may even have diminished my standing in her eye.

We went on a date, once.  We were still in high school. Mary intrigued me.  Forbidden fruit, or some such. OK, maybe it wasn’t so much of a date. It was the mixer after one of the games, but I invited her ahead of time and Mary accepted.  We spent the evening together and had a nice time.  We talked of all her plans, of her causes.  Her ambition knew no bounds, and I was cowed by it.  Even as a high school kid I knew that I could never be like her.  I didn’t have it in me.  I didn’t even want it in me. Life is fine, if you don’t work too hard at it.

But now, these many years later, Mary wanted to get to know me better. She had invited me to her house for dinner as a result of a brief conversation we had at the grocery store. I met her two kids, Biff and Buffy.  Just kidding, David and Sarah. They’re six and eight. Doesn’t matter which is which, and they are as polite as you could want two kids to be.

It’s been a year since I became an instant millionaire. I keep my job at the plant, even if I don’t need the money and I’m not good for much there.  Force of habit? Feeling of being part of something useful even when I’m not?  I don’t know.   Why stress?  I’ve never felt like quitting, so I haven’t.

I bought a house, at least. I probably shouldn’t have.  They’re way more trouble than an apartment.  When things go wrong, you don’t just call the manager, you have to figure out who to call, and then handle it all yourself. I did find a guy, Phil.  He can handle most things, fix leaks, mow the lawn.  And he’s just that kind of guy, a guy who knows how things work, and hangs with other guys who know how things work. So, if he can’t fix a problem at the house, he knows who can. Great guy to know.

He laughed at me once, while we were BS-ing in my kitchen. “Those two women are going to eat you alive.  What are you thinking?”

“What? I’ve known both of those girls since we were kids in school. I don’t keep secrets.  They know about each other. It’s cool.”

Phil laughed some more. “What planet are you from? Those two are like oil and water.  They don’t mix. The only thing they have in common is they want what your money has to offer.”

I was offended, a little. “Since high school,” I said. “There’s some depth, here. You make it seem shallow.”

Phil laughed yet again.  This whole thing was amusing to him. “Whatever. But if the money goes, they go. It’s as simple as that.”

I knew he was right.  I ‘ve always known it.  But why be over analytical when you are having such a good time?  If I could change anything, I would change nothing. I am not stupid. I’m getting in deeper with two women that I thoroughly enjoy.  This is the best time of my life. But can it last?  No. Mary wants me to be a father to her two kids. She wants a stable home, my home. She takes me to events that I would otherwise avoid, but I go along because it does make me feel like a better person. And because she wants me to.

Michelle?  We hang with the old gang, pretty much.  I pay for drinks all around, pretty often.  What the hell, I can afford it.   And we go off-roading, and to parties and such.  It’s a good time. There’s drugs, but we’re all pretty careful about it. Mike OD’ed, but recovered.

But it is occurring to me, I can’t keep living both these two lives.  Which one is mine?  Both?  Neither? Can these two woman continue to share me, unconcerned about each other?  In my dreams!  No, it won’t stay like this, it can’t. But I’m not smart enough to know what to do about it.  So, I just carry on, a day at a time, like I always have. That’s always worked before.

A python’s teeth are one-way.  They can’t back off.  How rare is it, that two pythons both devour the same prey, one from each end?  I wonder about the final thoughts of the goat, or the antelope, or whatever it is that pythons eat. I guess they just accept it.  What else can they do?

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