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 A tremendous fire had occurred in the Santa Barbara foothills above my home. Many wild critters came down searching for water and we were used to seeing snakes, coyotes and even fox in our neighborhood.

My husband and I were entertaining another couple, playing badminton at dusk in the back yard. When our guests asked for some tea, I put down my racket and ran into the kitchen through the sliding glass door.  Unfortunately, it was closed. Hearing the crashing glass, the badminton players ran to my side. My incredulous former husband gathered me up and took me to the hospital emergency room to stitch my multiple wounds, muttering continuously about my "stupidity".

The next morning I was hobbling around the house with an ace bandage covering most of my right leg..  I was the owner of a model and talent agency and this was one of my busiest seasons. The summer fashion production was to be on TV that evening. The script needed to be finished, models had to be confirmed and production logistics needed to be completed. My stress level was exacerbated by my cuts and bruises.

Since it was easier to stand than sit, I went to the old fashioned wall phone in the kitchen to call the TV station.  As I removed the phone from its plastic box, a snake stuck its head out of the hole below the metal cradle and began to thrust its tongue in and out like a dragon in a bad Japanese horror movie.   With a scream, I threw the phone to the floor.  Apparently, I was not only stupid but also crazy -- running through a glass door one night and seeing a snake in my telephone the next morning.

I staggered to another phone in the entry and called my husband's office. His secretary informed me that he was in surgery and, hearing the panic in my voice, inquired, "Betty, what's wrong?"

"Ginger, there's a snake in my telephone!"

"Now, Betty", she replied, "You just sit down. Everything is going to be all right." Her concerned advice was poorly received and I snapped, "I'm not crazy, Ginger."

Slamming down the phone, I called my own secretary, who also asked, "Betty, What's wrong?"

"Jan, there's a snake in my telephone!"

Her professional response was, "Well, Betty, I'll call you back later."

By this time I was beginning to agree with my initial diagnosis of my mental condition, but not enough to keep me from limping down the driveway to our normally quiet, mountainside street. To my relief, there was a white car coming up the hill.  I limped into the road and flagged it down. The gentleman who was driving opened the passenger door as I gasped, "There's a snake in my telephone!"

Without missing a beat, the knight in the white mustang said with a soothing lilt in his voice, "Get in, honey, and we'll talk about it!"

Without a second thought, I did just that.   Almost hysterical, at this point, I thought, If only he will believe me.

I repeated by story and my frenzied condition and convinced him he should take a look.. Thank God the snake was  there, his head still stuck in the hole, his tongue still stabbing the air. The Good Samaritan removed the vicious reptile, just before the humane society arrived.  They had been dispatched by my secretary, who really had believed  there was a snake in my telephone.  My conclusion: Tell the truth often enough – no matter how strange it is – and sooner or later, someone will believe you!

Home > Stories > Our True Stories > There's a Snake in my Telephone!