Snakes In A Can

Wanna know something that entertains a handful of tiredly delirious actors more than defecation stories, but not quite as much Your Mom jokes?

Yup, a snake in a can of nuts. The can was left on the table with other snacks for the enormous tech rehearsals - cookies and grapes and trail mix and the like - and even though it says right on the can there that the nuts are "fancy" no one was a taker. We all knew what was up, no one buys a can of mixed nuts that looks like it was produced when ELO and "Summer Loving" from Grease ruled the radio.

Terri couldn't wait, she was like a coked up kid at a carnival. She pointed out to me with a glee that was bordering on hysteria that there was a can of mixed nuts on the table, and that I should have some. I picked up the can, pointed out the "fancy" and shook said can, impressed that they had thought to include a noise maker inside that made it sound like there was a couple of nuts left inside.

"They're probably the best ones, those couple nuts that are left," Aaron pointed out. "Probably cashews," I said as I opened it and let the spring snake fly forth.

We all acted surprised and yelled and laughed. I think after awhile though, that the laughter became real. Now though, the thing has gotten to the point of a gag that is done 2 or three times during the course of a rehearsal; offer someone mixed nuts, people make a big deal about there being fancy, salted mixed nuts, "victim" acting shocked when the snake leaps forth, and the rest of us laughing like loons at the pretense that we have fooled them.

Actors...

Our snake doesn't have a weird face on it like the picture above. And I don't think I'd ever opened one of these cans before, but for some reason I had the impression that like 3 spring loaded snakes jumped out. And then I thought about the bald cap.

When I was in 4th grade, our class put on a production of Annie, and yours truly played Daddy Warbucks. For those of you not familiar with what the hell I'm talking about, Daddy Warbucks is a bald war profiteer. Being eight or nine, they didn't expect me to shave my head for the role (though I probably would have), so we got to go to a novelty shop to get a bald cap. I looked ridiculous but that's not the point, the point is the novelty shop.

I believe the place was actually called Acme Novelties, and it was in this building below the Alaska Way Viaduct here in Seattle. Let me try to paint the picture for you: a waterfront warehouse building, under the shadows of an overpass, in a part of town, while close to the public market, not a lot of tourists would come to. And in this grungy downtown environment, the likes of which a forest kid like me had only known from movies and MAD Magazine, there was a novelty shop.

The place was filled with the type of crap you would find in the back of comic books: X-Ray Specs, gum that turns your mouth blue, gum that snaps your finger when you full out a piece, whoopie cushions, fake dog doo, fake vomit and those plastic ice cubes with bugs in them. This place also had magic tricks and masks and all the things that makes an eight year old boy want to quit the quiet family life and take up the way of hawking novelties.

The place is no longer there, but every time I'm in the area, down near the ferry terminal, I remember that Saturday. I still feel that dangerous excitement of walking dark city streets, the thrill that was tantamount to finding the key to Santa's workshop.