The time Lyle told a story that haunted my LIFE.

“Australian Aborigines say that the big stories—the stories worth telling and retelling, the ones in which you may find the meaning of your life—are forever stalking the right teller, sniffing and tracking like predators hunting their prey in the bush.” (Robert Moss)

I love stories. I love hearing them, I love telling them, I love reading and listening to and seeing them. They are truly my great passion.

That being said there are certain stories that haunt me. Stories that make me shudder and think and laugh and cry and recoil in horror. From the books I was read as a kid (most notably "Tikki Tikki Tembo" and "The Crack of Dawn Walkers") to the things I remember growing up to the stories people tell me now... every once in a while I come across something that truly HAUNTS me. They are few and far between and when I hear one it consumes me. I think about it and find myself retelling it over and over again to anyone that will listen.

The last story to do so involved a dead girl on the New York City subway. It was so upsetting that when I retold it to my friend Amelia, she wrote me a few days later and chastised me for giving her nightmares and introducing her to such horrifying thoughts.

This past Monday I heard another such story. While sitting in a Williamsburg restaurant with two friends, I was told the following by Lyle:

A young woman had a boa constrictor for a pet. The snake lived freely, out of a cage and followed its master around through this room and that room. The woman and her snake were so close that they even slept in the same bed. At night, the girl would stretch out on her mattress and the boa would curl up by her feet, undoubtedly enjoying the heat his master's body was giving off.

Needless to say, the girl and her snake were close.

Then, one day, the boa stopped eating. Not only did it stop eating, it stopped sleeping in it's normal position. Instead of spending the night curled up at the woman's feet, it started to lie stretched out alongside her body. Scared he was sick, the woman took her non-eating, stretched-out-while-sleeping boa constrictor to the vet.

While at the veterinarian's office, the woman explained what was wrong with her beloved. "So you're telling me that your snake doesn't eat anymore and is now spending it's nights stretched out alongside you?" the vet asked. "Yes," the woman nodded. "You have to get rid of your snake immediately" the vet said. "Why?" the woman asked. "Because you're telling me it no longer eats and it's spending every night stretching itself alongside you in your bed. It's preparing its body to EAT you."

I've found that the stories that stick with you have a few of the same elements: an incredibly strong visual image (a dead dog; a terrified girl; a boa constrictor), an element of humanity (a moral dog-sitter; a strong subway neighbor; a vet who tries to break the news gently) and an element of mortality (again, a dead dog; a dead girl on a subway; death by snake). What makes the snake story so sad, so funny, so tragic, so haunting is: (a) that this woman obviously loved this snake (b) that she slept with the snake (c) the snake wanted to kill her (d) this woman who loved a snake as a pet did not realize that this animal she had raised and fed and kept healthy wanted to eat her alive while she slept.

On a completely different note, I saw Anderson Cooper, Ariana Huffington, Mike Huckabee and DL Hughley speak at Radio City Music Hall last night. It was truly a remarkable and memorable experience. And Anderson has cheekbones so sharp they would probably cut that snake in half.

(he could probably hack down that vegetation behind him with those cheekbones!)