I think that a little reptile critter ain't gonna scare me me much, how about you?
I'll tell y'all a story about my bravery, and every word is true.
Last time I saw a snake, it was spring and I had a LAWN with actual grass. Lush, green, cross-grain cut grass, and I was PROUD of the silly thing.
I had just mown about two hours prior, and saw in the dusky light of late sunset that one of the kids had thrown a big STICK right into the middle of my lawn. I went to pick it up and toss it, and when my hand was about two feet away, it reared up, showed fangs, and HISSED.
I jumped straight back about three feet, and made a noise that sounded like a six year old girl impersonating all three Stooges at once. I grabbed the nearest thing handy, an old cinder block, and heaved it overhead, two handed, like Chuck Heston hurling down the ten commandments. I actually hit it, pinned it down about six inches below the head.
Still making Stooge noises, I ran inside and grabbed a baseball bat. Ran back outside, squatted about four feet away, and clubbed it six times over the head with adrenaline fueled rapidity, like BamBam on the Flintstones ... *BAM*BAM*BAM*BAM*BAM*BAM*. I looked at the pulpy mess, made a very unmanly noise, and clubbed it six more times, *BAM*BAM*BAM*BAM*BAM*BAM*, for good measure.
I cut its head off with my pocket knife, grabbed a hoe, used it to tip off the cinder block (ain't touchin' it!), scooped up the body, and ran ALL THE WAY TO THE STREET, holding it out in front of me like it was an egg-on-a-spoon race, and dropped it down a sewer drain. Then I ran back, scooped up the head, and ran it to the street the same way, and dropped it down a DIFFERENT sewer drain,
JUST. IN. CASE.
The gun on my right hip never came into play.