A blurry photograph of a snake posted online was identified within six minutes as a copperhead, rat snake, water moccasin, coral snake, garden hose and “definitely venomous.”

Three residents advised killing it. Four advised protecting it. One demanded to know why the city had allowed it to move here.

The snake declined to clarify the matter and left the yard.

A final commenter arrived twenty minutes later, identified it correctly, and was ignored because the argument had already become about property taxes.

One nearby town has an Onion Festival. Lavon now has its own Banana Fan Club.

Neither side can explain why this constitutes a rivalry, but both have agreed it is far too late to stop.

The onion enjoys a festival, civic recognition and decades of agricultural credibility. The banana has none of these things, does not grow here, and nevertheless entered the dispute with extraordinary confidence.

Tensions rose this week after the banana described the onion as “a vegetable with a publicist.”

The onion has not responded, largely because it is an onion.

The town’s only bobsled run, a slight rise in the road between the gas station and the bank, was removed last week.

Officials called it “a drainage problem.” The bobsled team called it home.

During the off-season, the run also served as a shortcut, bicycle ramp and the town’s leading cause of someone yelling, “Watch this.”

The six-member team has demanded a replacement hill. Engineers confirmed the nearest suitable elevation is an overpass.

Practice has been suspended indefinitely.

The Jamaican team has reportedly been offered condolences.

The organization was formed to oppose the data center. This required incorporation, three directors, bylaws, minutes and somewhere to keep the paperwork.

The paperwork soon filled two servers in a spare bedroom. The servers required a second air conditioner, which required an electrician.

At the third meeting, one director observed that they had accidentally built a small data center.

The other two disagreed. The vote was two to one, which is how a board of three becomes a board of two and a former director.

The company dissolved that evening. The servers are still running. Turning them off requires a vote, a vote requires a quorum, and there is no longer a board.

The three former directors have since resumed protecting Lavon from poor judgment by insulting one another publicly on Facebook while demanding professionalism and respect from everyone else.

Residents agreed it was the organization’s most convincing presentation yet.

The circus packed up and left on Thursday. In its statement it described the town as pleasant, accommodating and uninterested.

Concrete companies have asked the town for a place where their trucks can turn around in one continuous motion, a proposal officials described as ambitious.

At present, a mixer attempting a U-turn must pull forward, stop traffic, reverse, pull forward again, reconsider several life choices, reverse once more and eventually leave facing roughly the opposite direction.

The maneuver has become so familiar that residents can now identify which point of the seven-point turn is occurring by the direction of the backup.

Engineers have proposed widening the turnaround enough for a concrete truck to actually use it.

Local historians objected, noting that future generations deserve the opportunity to sit motionless in traffic and wonder what the truck is going to try next.

The original seven-point turn will therefore be preserved at one location for ceremonial reenactments and school field trips.

An advocacy group unveiled its preferred future for the property this week, presenting officials with a scale model containing a university, medical campus, hotel, fountain plaza and enough landscaping to require its own weather system.

The finance officer estimated construction at roughly $61 million, then opened the town’s cash box for comparison.

Incumbents supporting the proposal insisted the project could eventually be paid for with income generated by the nearby nature preserve.

The preserve currently charges no admission, sells nothing, and consists primarily of trees.

Asked whether the trees had been informed of their new financial responsibilities, nobody answered.

The group nevertheless described the funding plan as “sustainable,” which the trees technically are.