Proof of Steve’s Crime: Part 1

OK. So now let’s discuss (in detail) why I think Steve’s trying to kill me. And, I must admit, if I wasn’t the intended “victim,” I’d be rather impressed with the intelligence behind his methods. He’s a sneaky one, that Steve. He’s not going to kill me in the usual way. No guns… no knives… no “accidental” falls off a roof… Oh no. He’s using something way more clever. He’s using this:

OK. It all started a few days ago, around7:00 in the morning. My mom had already come and picked the girls up for daycare and Steve had gone to the bottom of our property to load up his truck for work that day. I had sat down in my usual spot in front of this computer to check email, check some blogs and boards, and log into my remote desktop at work and start working.

I hear the back door open and figure Steve is coming in to fill up his travel coffee mug again before heading to his job for the day. Well, I was right about Steve coming in, but there wasn’t a coffee mug in his hand. Oh no. Instead, that little guy up there was in his hands. Here’s the thing though. That’s not even a real snake. It’s a snake SKIN. Now I’ll be the first to admit that it’s cool. The previous owner of that skin obviously took great care in shedding his old digs. The skin is 100% completely intact. The fact that you can see where his eyes were and that his mouth is completely open like that amazes me. We’ve found skins before, but they’ve been just parts of it, or they’re damaged and torn, etc. Not this one though.

So he comments how the girls will think it’s cool when they see it (which I agreed with). I was sort of preoccupied logging into work, so I mumbled something about not leaving it in the house and went back to my computer screen. I remember him walking behind me in the living room for some reason, but didn’t think anything of it at the time.

Fast forward 6 or 7 hours later. The girls are due home from daycare soon and I figure I’ll do a quick pickup of the downstairs before they get home. So I’m buzzing around, picking up toys, shoes, discarded clothing, etc. I glance over to the other side of the living room and notice something on our bear mount. It looks like a ribbon or string or something and I start cursing under my breath that Steve is going to kick the girls’ asses if he sees they're throwing things on the bear’s base. So I walk over to pick it out and save my children from the wrath of Daddy.

As I get closer, I’m still trying to figure out what it is. And then I get close enough and I see this:

I get a little closer and am now close enough to see this:

Now within a second or two, I remember my earlier conversation with Steve and realize it’s not a REAL snake. But before my brain took over and told me everything was OK, a lot happened. I jumped about 5 feet off the ground (and backwards), I screamed like a little girl (for real), I think I peed a little, and I almost had a fucking heart attack. Seriously. I’m a smoker, which means my heart probably isn’t healthy to begin with. So when I get scared like I did in those few brief moments, anything could happen. Hell, the ol’ ticker could explode for all I know. I seriously think I almost died in that brief period of time.

And so began my suspicion that Steve was trying to do away with me. He figures if he does it in the traditional way, he’ll get busted and have to spend time in the slammer. So instead, he’s going to try to make me die “naturally”. I mean, there’s no crime in lying a snakeskin in your home, right? And me getting scared and having a heart attack isn’t going to get him in any trouble, right? It’s the perfect crime really. That bastard is smart.

Since that incident, I’ve become paranoid. I swear, at least 3 times a day since then, Steve seems to appear out of no where, once again scaring the shit out of me. I jump and my heart skips a beat. I figure, if it skips enough beats, eventually, it’s just going to get pissed and not keep beating. And then it’s bye bye Allison, and hello life insurance money for Steve. Thanks hon. Thanks a lot. I thought you loved me, but apparently, I was wrong. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m on to you. And now I’m documenting everything here. So I’d rethink your plan if I were you. There are a ton of people out here in Blog World that will back me up if something should happen to me. I’ve got your number, and if I go down, I’m taking you with me.