1) The idea of having a snake's mouth on me - regardless of whether or not it was venomous - made my eyes roll into the back of my head. I literally want to vomit just thinking about it now.
2) My memory was that the snake was on his arm for a shitload of time. That added revulsion to sheer immediate terror.
3) Even at the age of 12, I always understood Jake the Snake's cobras to be a thinly veiled extension of his penis.
(cf.
)
So in other words, this wasn't just your average feud match between an alcoholic and a steroid junkie (which, quite frankly, was pretty standard). This was some form of illicit, metaphoric, mid-ring coitus. And I didn't want to believe it.
12 Year Old Self: Oh really, WWF - you're trying to tell me that this man is gay?

So again, this memory really caused me some issues.
Here's the kicker, though - when I brought this moment up with a bunch of buddies (many of whom watched as much wrestling as I did) none of them remembered it. Apparently, it never happened. And that's when I got really scared, because now my brain was generating phobia-ridden, homoerotic wrestling narratives that were rivals to the phobia-ridden, homoerotic wrestling narratives that WWF generated, only that these were my phobias and I wasn't getting paid for them.
So I'm pretty happy that a recent YouTube culling of the Roberts/Savage feud unearthed this moment that supposedly never happened.
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