The Killer Koala by Kenneth Cook Read Free Book Online Page A

without a snake, usually poisonous, around
his neck and another two or three in his pockets, poking their heads
timidly out of the holes.
    He
was so unprepossessing that he was fascinating, and his knowledge of
reptiles was formidable. His enthusiasm was so great that he
unaffectedly transmitted it to his audience. His strength was that if
you saw him you couldn't help staring at him and if you stared at him
you were captivated by the slow, drawling stream of information that
poured from him. Your attention was usually concentrated by the fact
that he was always brandishing some particularly deadly creature. Vic
loved snakes — deeply, purely
and passionately. I thought snakes loved him until the taipan bit
him. And that was just after the python tried to strangle him.
Perhaps it was just an off day for Vic.
    He
had started his morning lecture session on a large wooden-railed
platform used for various demonstrations. As usual, scattered around
the platform were cloth bags of various sizes that wriggled and
bulged excitingly. Vic reached down into one large bag and pulled out
a huge North Queensland forest python. The thing was about six metres
long and had a heavy blunt black head as big as a large dog's. The
five hundred or so people in his audience sighed as metre after metre
of snake as thick as a man's thigh emerged from the bag and began
winding itself around Vic's legs.
    'Many
people think . . .' Vic's monologue was proceeding; '. . . that a
snake is a slimy thing that is not pleasant to touch. Now this is
Very Wrong.' Just about everything people thought about snakes was
'Very Wrong' according to Vic, who used the phrase dozens of times in
every lecture. 'In fact, the skin of a snake is smooth, dry, cool and
pleasant to the touch and does not feel scaly.'
    By
now the snake had made its way up to Vic's chest and was wrapped
around him so that he looked as though he was wearing a pneumatic
grey-green rubber wetsuit of extraordinary thickness. There must have
been four coils of snake around him, but half the brute was still on
the platform, waving slowly.
    'It
is also commonly thought that the python strangles its prey. This is
Very Wrong. What it does once it has enmeshed some creature is to
tighten its coils and so prevent its victim from breathing.'
    'Does
it bite?' called somebody in the audience.
    'The
python bites for two reasons,' said Vic, as the snake's coils moved
up to his throat and the head, almost as big as his, peered over his
shoulder. 'One is to defend itself against attack, and … '
    Vic
was now enveloped in snake from thighs to head. You could only see
little bits of his face between the coils. But he never faltered in
his monologue and his hands were waving in the air as usual, not, as
one might have expected, clawing at the snake.
    'Once
the victim has stopped breathing the snake will lick the body to make
it easy to swallow . . .'
    Vic's
voice was growing fainter, but we all assumed it was because it was
being muted by the folds of snake around his mouth. You could still
distinguish most of the words.
    'Aborigines
find the meat of this forest python very good to eat . . . '
By now his voice was little more than a breathless mutter but
everybody, including myself, assumed that it was only part of the
act. 'No doubt this is due to its deep forest habitat, and possibly
because . . .'
    Vic's
voice cut out altogether and his hands stopped making illustrative
gestures and began dragging at the section of snake around his neck.
He staggered backwards towards the rail and the people near him
scattered.
    This
was too much realism, so I leapt onto the stage, followed by a couple
of hardy spectators, grabbed the snake's tail and began to unwind it.
The snake didn't particularly care for this and began hissing and
darting its heavy black head towards us. I knew enough about snakes
by now to know that its bite wouldn't be particularly harmful; but
this was a purely intellectual attitude and my emotions as the