Where’s Waldo?
By Sue Andrews, Inland Empire Branch
My husband, Ken isn’t well known for his sense of humor, but he certainly has one. He is an introvert at heart, but once he gets to know you, his mischievous behavior will appear. After thirty-two years of marriage, I can tell you loads of pranks he’s played on me and knowing him, you wouldn’t believe it.
One funny trick he played had to do with a snake. I’m not too keen on those critters, and especially those kept in cages as a pet. Really? Isn’t it enough they’re found in the wild? Snakes as pets are way beyond my understanding.
One day we heard our friends’ teen-age son had a pet Ball Boa. I’m not sure how long they’d had it, but long enough to know of its Houdini behavior. They named him Waldo, after the Where’s Waldo? picture books.
After too many times of searching for Waldo, the wife became frustrated. She told the boy, “This is it! Your dad is taking Waldo to work with him today and he’s not bringing him back.”
I’m not sure what the boy had to say about her decision, but her last words to her husband (who worked with Ken) were, “Whatever you do, do not give that snake to Ken Andrews! Sue will kill me!”
Well, you guessed it. Ken brought the snake home, but he never told me. I never saw it until I accidently came upon it one winter evening.
My husband had kept the snake in his workshop in a separate building next to our house. Ken hid it on the floor in a corner where he thought I’d never see it. I don’t go in there much, so Ken thought he and Waldo could keep his little secret.
Late that night my husband turned in early and I continued to watch television. While checking the premises before bed, I noticed there was a small light still lit in his shop. I located where the light came from. What is that? I wondered.
I walked closer for inspection. Ken’s old leather jacket was lying on top of a terrarium. What the heck? I removed the leather jacket, saw what was inside and screamed. As I jumped back, I tossed the jacket back on the terrarium. Luckily, I didn’t disturb Waldo, who was curled in a circular position, and kept sleeping on the hot rock. I left the light on and went back in the house.
The next morning at breakfast, I said to my husband, “Thought you could pull one over on me again, didn’t you?”
He smiled. “What are you talking about?”
“I found Waldo last night in your shop,” I said.
My husband killed himself laughing. “You just now found him? I’ve had that snake for four months now.”
“Well,” I said, and pondered. “If you’ve had him that long, and I didn’t know, I guess you can keep him. As long as you promise to never bring Waldo in our house.”
“I won’t,” he promised, and crossed his heart.
In spring, Ken was busy working on our house remodel in his shop. Because of no central heat or air, he always kept his shop window and door open for ventilation. Unbeknownst to Ken, Waldo resumed his old habit of doing escape acts. Maybe my husband hadn’t fed him enough or Waldo just felt like looking for more delicious delicacies in the wild. It wasn’t like you could call a snake to come home.
Anyway, I was thankful Waldo had the right sense of direction. Or perhaps he overheard the threat I’d made to Ken? In any case, we assumed he either went north to explore the San Antonio Dam, directly in front of our house, or he went west traveling across miles of spill-way from the dam toward Claremont’s Padua Hills.
Since we never saw Waldo again, we hoped he’d found himself a new home with wildlife specialties to eat. I also prayed he became just as happy as I was knowing he did not travel to the east, into our house.
“Where’s Waldo?” first appeared October 2020 in Fresh Ink,
Newsletter of the Inland Empire Branch.
Read Waldo’s response in the next socalwritersshowcase.com.