Nemo and the Snake

Not all gigs are the same. Before one show, a beautiful, goth-looking woman approached me with a four-foot-long python. Without hesitation, she asked if I wanted to hold it. Not wanting to shy away from the situation, I said, “Sure.”

So, I’m holding this snake, and she tells me it would be really cool if I could bring it on stage when the band is playing. Not wanting to disappoint—and thinking this would be great for the show (and maybe a date with her)—I agree.

With the rest of the band looking totally baffled, I take to the stage with this huge snake wrapped around my body. It takes about 30 seconds for me to realise that loud music and snakes are not a good mix. The snake is doing all it can to get away from me. I’m doing my best to sing and hold on to this massive reptile, but the endeavour is proving futile. The song comes to an end, and I see no sign of the goth woman. In desperation, I call out and ask her to come to the stage, but there’s still no sign of her.

I have no choice but to play another song with the band while being wrapped in this wriggling serpent. The snake now hates me even more. It shows its disgust by biting me on the arm, which hurts like hell. After the song ends, there is still no sign of the goth woman. In desperation, I ask if anyone will take the snake, but no one volunteers. I guess nobody wants to hold an angry, biting python.

With no other choice, I decide to lock it in Jonny D’s nearby guitar case—much to his disgust.

About 15 minutes later, the goth woman reappears with smeared lipstick on her face and her hair looking a mess. When she finds out that her snake is in a guitar case, she gets super annoyed and storms off with her python.

It turns out she just wanted me to babysit it while she went off to snog some other guy in the crowd. So, I got no date with her, and I got bitten by the snake. Worst gig ever.