Back in the days before we had an air conditioner, Daddy brought home a huge second hand water-cooled fan, thinking it might be an improvement over our attic fan. He hooked it up in the dining room window, where it blew directly over the dining room table and into the living room. It was missing the screen so we could see directly into the fan. It also lacked the pump to run water into the fan, but that wasn’t a problem since there were five kids to fill the reservoir, as directed.
The house was nice and cool for several days but the temperature was in the sixties, so it was a little too early to brag. One day it got into the eighties, so Daddy flipped it on. Whump, whump, whump! There was a terrible noise, then it kicked on. It cooled the room nicely, but then Mother started screaming, “Snake! Snake! There’s a snake coming out of the fan!”
Daddy jumped out of his recliner and flew in the check it out, looking dead on into the fan, right on eye level where the dazed snake had gotten a grip inside fan and was trying to climb out. They were eye to eye, less than six inches apart, but Daddy couldn’t see the snake. He was yelling, “Where? Where?” While the poor snake hung on for dear life and hissed at him. Mother collected herself and tossed a dishtowel over the snake. Once she knocked the poor thing down, it just dangled, wrapped around something in the fan. Daddy pulled it out, tossed it in the yard, and killed it. That was the end of the water cooled fan too.