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coats will be provided.
     
    Feeding Time!
     
    Digestion time is a special personal time for snakes but one of the most fascinating times to observe a snake is during FEEDING TIME directly prior. It should be known that many snakes actually enjoy putting on a show for an audience during this time, much to the dismay of the animal which will be consumed but as a capitalistic venture and as a favor to the snakes, FEEDING TIME will be announced and may be observed at the visitor’s discretion. It will be advised that children observe, because contrary to popular belief, the mind of a child can take in much more horror than that of an adult, that it can be a detriment in fact to deprive a child of the facts of life as they say on television the facts of life.
     
    What to Expect!
     
    Visitors to the SNAKE FARM will see snakes in great number and variation. They will see milk snakes and ball pythons and garter snakes, and vipers and rattlesnakes and king snakes and adder snakes and diamondback snakes, and tiger snakes corn snakes cottonmouth snakes asp snakes rat snakes. Many inferior SNAKE FARMS try to keep and show other animals such as turtles alligators bats and baboons but I as owner and proprietor of this SNAKE FARM will insist that there only be snakes. THERE WILL BE ONLY SNAKES.
     

THE TORTOISE AND THE HARE
     
    When the tortoise walked in, the hare nearly cried out in misery. He had been promised visitors by the night nurse, who was pretty and gave him an extra serving of gelatin when he asked. The hare had made the old mistake and figured that someone so pretty would never give him bad news, but there he was, and here was the tortoise.
     
    “Hello,” said the tortoise. A bouquet of wilting lilies was taped to his shell.
     
    “It’s good to see you,” murmured the hare. Perhaps if he pretended it hurt to open his eyes, the tortoise would leave. The hare squinted and squirmed.
     
    Oblivious, the tortoise attempted to sit in the chair by the bedside. He did this by leaning back, supporting his weight with his hind legs, and then hefting his front legs onto the chair. The chair, on casters, rolled back. The tortoise lumbered to where the chair had rolled and repeated the process again. Finally, he got the chair wedged between the bed and the IV unit. He pitched his body upwards, scrabbling at the upholstery. If the night nurse walked by, she would surely assume the tortoise was attempting to mount the chair. Perhaps she would call security.
     
    The tortoise dug in with his claws, pulled himself into the seat and turned around to face the hare, crushing the flowers taped to his back in the process. His breathing was laborious. “I hear you are dying,” the tortoise said.
     
    That’s a delicate way to put it, thought the hare. “Indeed I am,” he said. “They gave me eight weeks to live a year ago, and I beat the odds.”
     
    The tortoise nodded.
     
    Asshole, thought the hare. “I was real outspoken about it for a while,” he said. “I got into the paper. The thing was, I was just taking multivitamins and running every day, then I did a whole-body cleanse every two weeks.” He stretched his legs and felt the diminished muscle tone.
     
    “The odds caught up,” said the tortoise. With his big eyes, he did seem a little doleful. Then again, he always did. He clearly hadn’t cleaned his shell before the visit and smelled like a distant scummy pond. Talk about a sanitary environment, the hare thought.
     
    The hare pressed on. “Everybody’s got to go sometime,” he said. “You’ll go. Maybe you’ll get the cancer and die next year. I can’t imagine you’d have too much trouble succumbing to the odds, as it were. No offense to you, but it takes some serious mental acuity.”
     
    “I’m not sure,” the tortoise said, “that tortoises can get the cancer.” He was trying unsuccessfully to reach around his massive shell to the flowers. He plucked one petal off in his claw and brought it close