P Y T H O N G A

Sometimes the origins of an idea come from the most unexpected events. This is the case with Pythonga. This is the true story of where, and how, Pythonga began.
Being a Horticulturist, Mary comes in contact with many varieties of animals, bugs, you name it. Most of the time she's just observing something flying, crawling, trotting, or slithering by. Usually. However, on this particular day it was a bit more than that.

It was a typical very hot, humid Florida summer day when she was working at a property known for its venomous snakes, water moccasins mostly. She saw a weed in a flower bed, and reached to pull it. Instantly she felt intense pain like being hit on the hand with a sledge hammer in the bitter cold. Instead of pulling out the weed a juvenile water moccasin clung from her right index finger gnawing away through her gloves. In complete surprise, and highly insulted, Mary stood momentarily with the moccasin dangling, "What the ...?!". A few seemingly long seconds went by, then the snake let go, dropped to the ground, and started slithering away. As she watched the snake making its escape, she realized she would need to take the poisonous reptile with her to the hospital. Grabbing the closest object, an obscure, too short for her liking rod of metal, Mary held the snake down gently and picked it up with her other hand. Despite her insulting injury, she had no intention of harming it. She walked as urgently as she could to her co-worker who was at the other side of the property.

As she approached him he could not hear her as he was using a leaf blower, so she waved her swelling, injured hand to get his attention. Probably not the best choice, but her only one, as she held the irritated venomous snake in the other hand. As he turned the blower off he asked her what kind of snake she had. She calmly replied, "I dunno, but it bit me and we need to go to the clinic down the street." 
    
Her co-worker drove  her to a nearby walk-in clinic. Of course, walk-in clinics are not equipped for venomous snake bites, nor are receptionist at walk-in clinics equipped for clients carrying  live venomous snakes toward them! They quickly put her in a room, mostly to get away from the snake, did all those things they have to do, and told her an ambulance was on it's way. As precious time ticked away, Mary waited patiently as the doctor stayed close by. Finally, the ambulance arrived, and they headed to the nearest  emergency room.  In transit she was captive to the paramedics dissertation on the gruesome side effects of the water moccasin's bite. Nothing warm and cozy there : swelling, burning, sharp pain, vomiting and nausea, numbness and tingling, discoloration of the skin, tissue damage, weak pulse, and shock. Oh, and possible death.  Just to mention a few. When she thought she couldn't take one more detail, they arrived at the emergency room. 
    
She was surprised to see how many people seemed to be waiting for her. Well, they weren't actually waiting for her, they were waiting to see the snake which had taken a detour  back to the office instead of going in the ambulance. As technicalities have it, where it concerns venom and stuff related to it, they could not give her the anti-venom without identifying the snake.  So she had to wait, again, until someone brought it to the hospital. In the meantime, the physicians assistant explained the process of getting anti-venom in an IV drip. It is more venom basically,  with some whatnot mixed in, and can cause just as many problems as what is trying to be avoided.  More good news. Eventually the snake arrived, as did the audience to see it, and it was again identified as a water moccasin. After several vials of anti-venom she was taken to a private room where she was closely watched for twenty-four hours, and since no body parts fell off she was finally sent home.

When she returned to work that Monday, useless but went anyway, she said she thought she deserved a nickname for having gone through such an ordeal. The name Pythonga was blurted out, "Sounds like a stripper. I don't wanna be a stripper! I want to be a super hero!" 
And so it began.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

Finally, PHASE 13 in on line! Geez!

Thanks. 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  PYTHONGA