Henry cashed in his dividends and purchased an exclusive package to an upmarket campsite deep in the African bush. He got all the gear, the khaki shirt and pants, the wide-brimmed hat and he was on his way. He knew exactly what was what. He’d read a guide book. Or at least, he’d looked at some of the pictures.

He arrived and was greeted warmly by his hosts. After the briefing, to which he paid limited attention, he decided to go for a walk, all by himself.

Caught short, he squatted by a Khaya tree. As he perched precariously, a long, sinuous tree snake with bright yellow eyes wound its way down the trunk. Clearly offended by what it saw, it opened its jaws and fastened onto Henry’s tender regions.

Henry howled. He jumped up. He ran for the camp, clutching his pants.

But the venom circulated rapidly. It spread throughout his bloodstream into the tissues and the nerves. Henry collapsed in front of his luxury tent.

Later he was flown home in a polished box made from Kanya wood. The irony would, no doubt, have been lost on the hapless Henry.

Written in response to Paula Light’s Three Things Challenge PL45  with a little nod to my own recent close encounter with a boomslang!

And for those of you old enough to remember: enjoy!