There’s No ‘S’ in Human (Part one)

Here is the first piece that I’ve written exclusively to be posted to my blog. It’s a little gory, and it’s only the first segment in what I see as maybe a four- or five-part story, but I quite like it. Let me know what you think!

***

part one

Sid woke up on a hospital bed, with a bandage wrapped loosely around his head, partially covering one eye. This in itself didn’t really give Sid reason to pause; he clearly remembered the moment when a runaway quad bike had nailed him square between the eyes. He was glad not to be dead and all. What really wrinkled his brow was that he was in a people hospital. For human people. And Sid was a snake.

He was sure of this fact. He had vivid memories of waking up every morning and being a snake. Every time he could recall seeing his reflection in a puddle of rainwater, the number of limbs he could count on his long, whip-like torso was zero. Plus, if heredity had much to do with it, both of his parents were snakes. So why was he in a people’s hospital?

And then it dawned on him. Maybe nobody had realized that he was a snake.

As this rumination bubbled through his serpentine brain, it precipitated other thoughts. How could a human mistake a snake for one of its own kind? How long could he benefit from the medical attention afforded to him by this oversight before he was found out and sent to a veterinarian instead? What would it feel like if he actually were a human?

This last thought lingered for a second longer than the others. In fact, it was still at the top of his mind when the doctor strode into the room on his long, lanky legs.

I wonder what it would be like to have a pair of those, Sid thought to himself. Legs.

Perhaps he was just curious by nature, or perhaps the concoction of medications that the doctors had him on served to lower his inhibitions, but at the precise moment that the doctor reached the side of Sid’s bed, Sid launched himself at the doctor’s throat and severed the doctor’s jugular with his fangs.

I’d quite like to try out those legs, Sid decided. A snake’s teeth are sharp, but they’re no good at tearing through flesh, as it is generally the custom for them to swallow food whole. Now, Sid was no boa constrictor, but he decided that the easiest way to remove the doctor’s legs was to wrap himself around them one at a time and squeeze until they popped off.

Sid waited for the doctor to finish writhing in a pool of his own blood on the floor before he started on this task. When the doctor had bled out sufficiently that his struggles were little more than a regretful twitch, Sid coiled his slender body around the doctor’s right thigh. That first one wasn’t too hard to get off, but by the time Sid had wrapped himself tightly around the left leg, he had used up most of his energy and couldn’t seem to manage the task no matter how hard he squeezed.

He disentangled himself from the doctor and slithered around a little bit to loosen up. He lapped his forked tongue into the pool of blood and found he quite liked the taste of human: something which he had never had the opportunity to eat in the wild. He lapped up a little more to restore some strength, then got back to work on the left leg. This time, it posed no problems and popped off just as easily as the first.

Now Sid was ready to experience life as a bipedal creature. He maneuvered the legs so that they lay at right angles to one another, with a gap in the middle about the width of his body. He positioned himself between his brand new appendages and concentrated with all his might on moving them. However, try as he might, he could only bend the knees a little bit before both legs would roll away from his body.

What I really need, Sid concluded after a bevy of failed attempts, is some way to attach these kickers to my body. I’m sure there must be someone in this place who can affix me to these beauties.

No sooner had these thoughts passed through his mind than he saw a surgeon hurrying past the open door to the room. Sid narrowed his eyes slyly and flicked his tongue.

Perfect.

end of part one

(to part two)

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