That was good. More backyard gore stories: my dad once accidentally shredded a toad with a weedeater. When I was a kid we had a bunch of grass snakes (and some other snakes) in our backyard, which pissed me off because I have a phobia about snakes. It got to the point where I could barely tolerate going outside, I was so afraid of them. So, while I was sawing away on a piece of wood one day, I saw a snake, slithering right along bold as you please in front of me about 12 feet away. He was headed deeper into the yard. I decided I had to do something to put some fear into these bastards, so I went in front of him (somewhat), thudding the ground in front of him and shouting. I would've been content to scare him out of the yard. But he just kept going on his path. Enraged by his arrogance and presumption, I killed him with fell blows. Continuing with the theme, another snake met his end during a hard rainstorm. It shifted some railroad ties we had stacked just enough so that it crushed him in place. He was still moving, just barely, when I found him a couple of days later as fire ants feasted on his body.