Detta is screaming: "There is a MOTHERFUCKIN' SNAKE on this GODDAM PLANE. WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU--"
The snake is not a happy snake; it strikes. So does she. Many's the time Detta Walker's been compared to a snake, in terms of speed and meanness; this is the test. One deft plucks the pencil from behind Patrick's ear before he can even yelp and plunges forward. Her fang strikes home before the viper's two can, punching under the shelf of its jaw and into its tiny reptile brain, and now Patrick is yelling as it flails in its deaththroes, ropy scaled tail thrashing around his already-ropeburned neck.
She throws the corpse over the side of the plane as it leaves the ground, still screaming over the engines: "--THINK YOU'RE DOIN YOU CRAZY MAHFAH?"
no subject
The snake is not a happy snake; it strikes. So does she. Many's the time Detta Walker's been compared to a snake, in terms of speed and meanness; this is the test. One deft plucks the pencil from behind Patrick's ear before he can even yelp and plunges forward. Her fang strikes home before the viper's two can, punching under the shelf of its jaw and into its tiny reptile brain, and now Patrick is yelling as it flails in its deaththroes, ropy scaled tail thrashing around his already-ropeburned neck.
She throws the corpse over the side of the plane as it leaves the ground, still screaming over the engines: "--THINK YOU'RE DOIN YOU CRAZY MAHFAH?"