Give 'Em An Eyeful     Snakes have never terrified me, but the guys who workrd in the reptile house were frightening.  A number of us enjoyed a good practical joke, but the reptile keepers carried their to the brink  of impracticality.     I will not here betray all their secrets.  But if by some quirk of fate the reader should someday be exposed to the possibility of being caught in their favourtie ploy, I must, in good conscience, prepare them.     First, let me tell you that the guys who work reptiles are very intelligent, a breed of their own.  They know their business and must maintain absolute concentration lest they make a mistake.  In their arena, their first mistake could be their last.  Many of the snakes are  so deadly that their bites could not be survived.  Unlike the rest of the keepers, the reptile keepers spent their days entirely indoors.  There are no windows through which to view the sky.  And walking through  the semmingly endless corridors of the facility, one could easily lose track of where he is.  There are many aquariums that rest on inside shelves which are never seen by the majority of the public.  They hold  a variety of poisonous and nonpoisonous snakes, and some folks are forever wondering if anything has recently escaped.  The colour scheme, if  there is a scheme, is devoid of charm.  And the atmosphere is sterile, institutional, and scientific.     The reptile keeprs had a great sting operation, and their favourite marks in the early days were new keepers.  If you were a new keeper and they were offered the opportunity to take you on a tour, they would jump at the chance.  They would begin at one end of the building, which must be about fifty yards long, and dazzle you with facts and statistics.  You simply could not resist the urge to admire them for their absolute command of their subject, reptiles.     You would be introduced to the world of rattlesnakes and exotic frogs and toads.  You might get to hold a variety of nonpoisonous snakes,  like king snakes or gopher snakes, and let me tell you, you would find yourself trusting them-the keepers, not the snakes.  Well, both actually. The point was, they had you just where they wanted you by the time  you were three quarters of the way through.  You would do just about anything they told you to do, because you knew that what they were telling you to do was okay.  It was safe.     About this time you would come to a cage.  Hanging from the back of  the cage was a pair f goggles, the type you would wear if you were  using a table saw.  They were next to a sign that immediately caught your interest.  It read,  "Beware of Spitting Cobra."  You would be guided skillfully into the wonderful world of cobras and their behaviors and myths.  You would find yourself asking questions about the effects of the venom on your eyes and skin.  You would discover that blindness may occur, along with unbelievable pain.  Then in a very matter-of-fact, nothing-to-worry-about way, you would be invited to look into the spitting cobra's cage.  It meant moving closer and leaning forward a  little bit, so that you could look over the top of the terrarium.  If you hesitated, they would nonchalantly say, "No problem," or "Nothing to worry about," and then you would trust them again.  While you were gazing through the screen trying to focus on the snake at the bottom of the cage, they would squeeze a rubber bulb with arm water in it. It would course through a system of tubes and gush into your eyes while they yelled, "Look out!"     There were a lot of adults who lost most of their dignity in those moments, as they said and did things we are usually spared in public life.     The laughter that echoed through that hallway bordered on the  demonic, and I believe that there are many who take comfort in the  fact that these men will someday stand before God on Judgement Day. They won't be holding any rubber bulbs in their hands then. No sir-ee.                               With Thanx to Juanita for the  above tags