Special Notes: My day at the Museum, an article in the newsletter. Just thought you might enjoy it. It's all true. SNAKE!! Article by R.L. Wolf (the printer, it’s my pen-name) The little tykes are gone for the day, happy in the oblivious innocence of youth to the dangers they have endured in their summer time shorts and sneakers of the horrible evils lying under the rocks. Yes. Its snakes I speak of. I shut down the presses, pour California Wash over the rollers and clean the ink off our beautiful antique hand-press. The shop is cleaned, ready for the next day of historic knowledge seeking adventurers and head for the Mercantile. Across the diagonal path I head with my loyal canine companion; I play my Native American Flute as I walk, another wonderful day in the Old West keeping alive the traditions of are forefathers. Then suddenly I’m set upon by unspeakable evil. SNAKE!! It rattles an ominous warning of death at me, coiled and ready to strike. I am but a scant few inches from the spawn of the devil itself. I, of course, do the sane thing and panic by jumping several feet in the air and run, not stopping until I reach the Mining Cabin, or somewhere in that general vicinity. As I run, I am certain I hear the devil himself speaking through the snake’s mouth. It may have just been the adrenaline, but I am fairly certain I heard the snake saying, “Mwahahaha, I will get you, my pretty, you and your little Katie too.” Oh no! I think to my self as I perform human-kinds first flight unaided by mechanical means. My poor loyal companion is on the other side of the evil snake. “Katie! Run,” I turn and yell. Katie, in her usual clueless and timid manner turns, looks at me, and goes down on her belly and crawls towards me. “No, Katie, Run the other way!” My truest best friend continues to crawl past the rattling snake spawn of demons; passing by only a few inches. I am fairly certain the only reason the snake didn’t strike out was because it was too busy laughing at the floating human and the ridiculously unaware canine companion crawling past on it’s belly. I run to Gideon and yell, RATTLE SNAKE. My fearless hero Gideon walks calmly to the bush the snake lives under and bends down and whispers comforting words to the poor scared creature. “Wait? What?” “Is he cuddling the evil creature?” I leave the two love struck creatures talking to each other. The last words I hear from Gideon is, “Did the bad man scare you baby?” I circle safely around, by way of the far mountain range, and sneak past the bank and make a dash for the Mercantile. I have ordered a pair of snake proof boots and chaps.