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I worked with a drummer named Tommy from the Alabama North Woods. Tommy was a mini-Tarzan. He caught snakes with his bare hands. He bought a fish tank and put a King Snake and a baby rattler together to see who ate who. The decided to cohabitate. If Tommy wasn't wanting a rattlesnake necklace, that pair might still be together today. Tommy was part Indian and told me his kin kept snakes in extreme respect. Arriving at his apartment after a weekend in the woods, Tommy asked me outside to see what he had in the trunk of his car. He opened his trunk lid and I'm hearing and seeing a six foot rattle snake in a canvas bag with a y-shaped stick lashed to it's head.
The sound of the rattles will make Chuck Norris back off a dozen steps. Tommy put the huge snake in his fish tank. He bets anybody they will remove a hand from the outside glass when the snake strikes the glass from the inside. I tried it twice. No bets from me.
After a fun night at the bar, Tommy asks me what I like best grilled outside.
The next day at noon, Tommy pulls out a pistol, shoots the rattlesnake, skins it and cooks the white meat inside in a deep fat fryer. It was good - chewy chicken flavor, yum yum.
He made three necklaces from the six-footer's skin. One for himself, one for me and my wife, Hariett. Mine had Snakeskin around the neck and the rattle from the snake I ate on a brass chain - nine rattles and a button. If you knew rattlers, you could see the rattle was from a big 'un.
I gave my favorite aunt the necklace when she told me she had cancer. We discussed any possible whammy that the necklace might have going for it. She lived another 15 years - cool.
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