Worried About His Other Snake

(I have a rather large bosom, and do not particularly care to wear tank tops. On this day I’ve recently been tattooed and am babying the area by letting it breathe which means I’ve relented and am wearing a tank top. I’m at my friend’s house, on the couch reading, when my friend’s step-father comes in.)

Friend’s Step-Father: “Look what I found while walking the dog.” *brings a small dead snake a couple inches away from my face and dangles it there*

Me: *barely glancing up* “Oh, that’s nice. Could you please move it? I’m trying to read.”

(He refuses to move the snake and instead moves it a bit further down.)

Me: “Move the snake. It doesn’t bother me. I’m trying to read.”

(Again, he moves it a bit further down.)

Me: *looking up and meeting his eye* “Move the d*** snake. I’m reading here, okay? There’s no need to keep shoving it in my face! Snakes don’t bother me!”

Friend’s Step-Father: *leers* “Oh, I wasn’t trying to put it in your face; I was trying to put it down your shirt.” *gazes at my chest for a few moments*

(The worst part was I eventually had to stop coming over because every time I did he’d flirt with me in front of his young daughter, which made things very awkward.)