I’m just entering an apartment on the second floor off Romaine in West Hollywood. I always check out the architecture no matter where I’m working. This place is a stucco and fake brick atrocity. I would kill myself before living in such a place. Well, maybe not kill myself, but give myself a good beating. Anyhow, a guy obviously on speed answers the door on the first floor. He has a giant live snake in his arms and wrapped around his shoulders. About fifteen foot long. I tell him he has to put the snake in another room, company policy. He says a snotty, “He’s my baby!” Then, puts the snakes head in front of his faking a kiss. The snake strikes him right in the mug, so fast and hard, the guy is knocked on his ass. Dozens of little holes start leaking blood in a round pattern just above his eyes and below his chin. I headed for my next repair ticket…