Buckwalter lived in a tiny town in Texas, a place no one had ever heard of called Collcalda. It had a main road, and some side roads, and a few buildings and several houses. Somewhere, there was a factory. Somewhere else, there was a school. Collcalda was the closest town to the school, and it bussed in students from all over the county, and was actually a pretty large school. The student population was larger than the population of Collcalda itself. Collcalda had no industry. Most of the people who lived there were either teachers in the school, related to teachers in the school, or worked in the few minor services that serviced the teachers in the school. Buckwalter's mother was a janitor's assistant.

Buckwalter rounded a random corner and continued walking. It was summer, and Collcalda was a ghost town. Most of the residents were vacationing or working temp jobs in other counties. Shirley Abercrombie and her nipples were, well, who knows where they were. Buckwalter knew almost nothing about her, except that she was in a grade higher than his, that she was bussed into the school from someplace else, and that if she ever had his baby there would be no well in hell, no way in literal hell that he would ever drop it.

A snake lay coiled on the ground in his path and despite his distracted state Buckwalter stopped well before accidentally treading on it. It was a thick black snake, not black in the shiny sense, but an intense dusty gray. It's head was gazing off to the side, as if idly watching a nearby television show it was only half interested in. After a moment it seemed to notice Buckwalter, moved its head to look at him, and raised up a few inches. "Hello, Buckwalter. How are you today."

Buckwalter's instinct was too look around for something to read. He'd read that if you are having a dream, you won't be able to read the same thing twice. Your dreaming brain will change the words up. The snake couldn't smile, but it seemed amused by Buckwalter's head darting around in an effort to find words. "You're not dreaming, Buckwalter."

Buckwalter took his hands out of his pockets and folded his arms in front of his chest. "I must be. Snake's can't talk."

"You've met every snake, ever, and confirmed this scientifically?"

"No... but you don't have the vocal chords necessary for speech. Or the dental structure or the tongue, for that matter."

"I see," said the snake. "I didn't realize you were an accomplished physiolinguist, Buck. Where did you get your PhD-- Texas Tech or Austin University."

"I'm 16."

"I know."

"See? More proof. How did you know how old I am? How do you even know my name?"

The snake seemed to sigh, and settled its head back again onto its coils. "This is tedious. All serpents know the name of everyone, ever. It's a quality of being a serpent. Take away that quality, and what you have remaining isn't a serpent, but just a snake."

"You're a serpent?"

"Yes. I'm a serpent, Buckwalter."

"What... what do you want?"

"Me? Nothing. I'm just a messenger. I've been sent to tell you something."

"Sent by whom?"

"And there you go, Buck. I think that's why He sent me. Because most people, yes, most people would ask what. But you want to know who."

"What's the message?"

"Nice try. But you've already played your hand. You're a sensitive boy, aren't you?"

"I think I'd better go."

"Yes. But first, the message. It's a simple one. If you marry Shirley Abercrombie, she'll give you a baby. And if she gives you a baby, you'll drop it."

Buckwalter's stomach dropped and his head chest went cold. "What."

"That's it. That's the message."

"Well then I must be dreaming. I mean of course I am." Buckwalter started kicking at the snake. "Go away snake!"

The snake idly dodged the kicks. "I'm just a messenger," he said, in between attempted blows. "I'm not equipped for violence!"

"Go away!"

The snake started to slither away. "Just remember!" It slithered into some bushes, which shook with its movement, and then were still.

Buckwalter stood there, chest heaving with the effort, sweating. After a moment he once again looked around from something to read. Fruitlessly. Finally he grabbed a stone, and scratched onto a brick wall "There's no such things as snakes." He closed his eyes, and thought about Shirley Abercrombie's enormous nipples. It wasn't her fault. Kids her age were simply growing too fast to keep up with their bodies. She wore sweaters to school when it was cold, but her nipples poked through anyway. Buckwalter's mother had a similar problem, which he knew she solved with a numbing cream. There was no way in literal hell Buckwalter was going to approach Shirley Abercrombie with a jar of numbing cream and say "For your nipples." But he might, now that he thought about it, sit near her at a football game in the fall and offer her the use of a blanket. After a few minutes of conversation first.

He opened his eyes. There in front of him, the words "There's no such thing as serpents." See? He'd written snakes, and now it said serpents. Must be a dream.

Just to be sure, he walked back the way he'd come. Thoughts of dropping babies completely gone from his mind. He went about his day. In the fall when school started, he had a few conversations with Shirley in the hallways. At a football game, he shared a blanket with her. They were married a few years later, when she'd graduated college and he was finished with highschool and got a job as an assistant janitor. They had a baby, and Buckwalter dropped it. It didn't die, but it would never play football. Which was too bad. Football's kind of a big deal in Texas.