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The Controversy Of The Church Toy Drive

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George was sitting in the worn leather chair, sanding a wooden toy train, when Agnes slithered out of the basement drain. He smiled and held up the train. “What do you think?” Agnes wagged her tail. “I guess all that’s left is to throw a coat of paint on it.” He stroked the smooth wood and sighed. Painting had been Emily’s job. He had abandoned the toy-making after Emily died-- his heart hadn’t been in it anymore. He shook the memory off and grinned. “I’d almost forgotten how much fun this was. The church toy drive is going to have a banner Christmas.” Agnes purred as she slithered up his leg and curled around his neck. “I’ve missed you.” He scratched behind her small, leathery ear flaps and her eye rolled up into her head with pleasure. She enjoyed it for a few moments before sliding down into his lap and looking at him expectantly, her suction-cup mouth making anxious pop-pop noises. He pulled up his sleeves and looked for a place that didn’t already have a tell-tale hickey. She had been greedy lately--both of his arms were covered in sores. And it was showing on her, too. She looked less like a snake and more and more like an overstuffed sausage, her green-black skin stretched almost transparent. “Sorry,” he said, rolling his sleeves down and untucking his shirt. “I guess you’re going to have to see if there’s anyplace on my back you can use.” He leaned forward and lifted up his shirt, and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the feel of her cold, rubbery mouth

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