So someone came into my job a few months back...

"We don't want this."

When I opened the box a sick little snake laid there.. barely breathing.. unable to lift its sweet, stupid, little head.

"We haven't really given it heat in awhile." the woman said. "you want her?"

"this snake is going to die." I narrowed my eyes at them in disgust.

"If you don't take it we are just going to let it go in that field."

I turned and took the shoebox with the pitiful snake. When I looked again into the box my heart broke.. I tried not to get attached, This poor snake was covered in mites, barely breathing and was extremely thin..

It's still a kinda of bumpy road for Whitney.. Mites are gone, however, she is still thin.. but she eats.. and she drinks, and she is always a big fan of hiding in my cleavage.. I love this little snake, she is so expressive.. I'm lucky to have rescued her.

You want to know what killed me though? on the way out of the store, the woman turned and asked:

"Hey, do you know where i can get an iguana?"

fucktard.