There are certain things in life that I would be entirely okay with not having experienced. But…life has a funny way of dumping those exact things on my doorstep.
About sixteen years ago, I had the first of these scary encounters and wasn’t happy that I’d experienced it. My family and I were at Lake Mojave and had staked out some real estate on a little island that was a great place to hang with out boat and sea doos for some weekend fun.
After setting up our day camp: blankets, chairs ice chests, etc. and settled in, we’d done a few good runs with our boat and sea doos and were enjoying a nice lunch. That’s when it happened. A scorpion decided to crawl on our beach blanket and sting the heel of our oldest daughter. Ironic that the name of the island we were camped out on was Scorpion Island.
To make a long story short, we managed to make it through that experience with our daughter recovering without any ill effects other than a nasty sting to her heel. All of us were relieved that nothing more serious had happened and hoped to never encounter scorpions again. Through the many years of our going to the river, we did come across them on a regular basis, but always gave them a wide birth and they left us alone.
That brings me to last night. I had maneuvered my way to the restroom at one side of our house, me currently set up in the middle of the house while I recover from my surgery. Right now, the whole getting up, navigating to and then using the restroom is a bout a ten-minute roundtrip. Yes, I’ve timed it.
Since I was feeling good, I didn’t see a need to bring my cell phone with me, believing that I’d make my ten-minute restroom stop and then go back to bed. Easy, right?
Oh, but if only it had gone the way I planned.
Bent at the waist, since I can’t stand upright, I made it to the restroom and flipped on the light. And that’s when I saw it—a black scorpion easily two and a half inches in length, just chilling by the base of the toilet, the very toilet I needed to use. And the next nearest john was quite a trek away.
Now’s a good time to mention that I’ve never seen a scorpion anywhere in our town or even in the mountains I run here in the ten years since we’ve lived here. And…I’ve certainly never encountered on in my house…where I sleep…walk around barefoot…and where my new granddaughter is staying with us.
So, seeing that scorpion, trying to block me from using the john and posing a threat to my unsuspecting family members and me, meant war.
Oh, no you don’t!
Regretting that I hadn’t brought my cell phone with me, the method of contacting family members when I need help (ah, the ease of modern technology) I realized that I was on my own and would have to immobilize the nasty scorpion by myself. And this I wasn’t relishing, seeing as I can’t stand upright or move at anything faster than a snail’s pace.
So what to do? I looked around and found my weapon on choice—a large can of Lysol.
Perfect!
It was a stretch, but I managed to get close enough to grab the can off the back of the toilet without getting too close to the scorpion who had taken quite an interest in me and had begun moving towards me.
Yikes!
Bending down, which did cause me pain, I sprayed the heck out of the scorpion that reacted as any self-respecting scorpion might. He curled up his tail, began charging me and stinging the air, no doubt hoping to make contact with me.
Holy crap!
Had I the presence of mind, I would have screamed, and jumped up on the toilet, but the painkillers my doctor has me on are sort of dulling my senses and I couldn’t’ do either.
Crud!
I only hoped that there was enough spray in the can. I sprayed it again, tracking its movements as it tried to make a hasty retreat.
Oh, no you don’t you stinging little sucker! I’m not letting you go and hide so you can sting me later.
Not caring that having to move to keep the spray on the scorpion was hurting me, I darn near emptied that huge can of Lysol, choking and gagging on the fumes, caring not as long as I stopped him. Just as the can was emptying, the scorpion flopped like a dead fish on the ground, stretching out its entire body in one long, intimidating line. I leaned in close. Stared at it. It flinched. I recoiled as fast as my drugged body would allow. From my now safer distance, I scrutinized it as it lay there. It didn’t move, and I prayed upon all hope that the wireless phone would actually be on its charger in the kitchen instead of lost somewhere.
Miraculously, the phone was on its cradle. I grabbed it and beat feet back to the bathroom to keep an eye on the stunned scorpion in case it tried to get away. Dialing my husband’s cell phone, I heard him pick up from all the way on the other side of the house. (It’s a large house.) There was a groggy, “Hello?”
“It’s me,” I said.
“Yeah,” came my husband’s voice a little less sleepy.
“I need you to come and help me with something.”
“Where are you?”
“On the other side of the house in the bathroom,” I said, trying to steady my heart, which was trying to beat its way out of my chest. “And…I’m looking at…a scorpion…a big one!”
“A scorpion?!” my husband said, not the least bit asleep any longer.
Realizing that I now had his full attention, I said, “Yes,” with a voice that was suddenly calm.
“Be right there!” he said and hung up.
A minute later, he rounded the corner and looked to where I was pointing. The minute his eyes fell on my prey he said, “Jeeeezzzzuus!” before heading to the garage. A few moments later, he returned with a long-handle garden shovel and attempted to scoop up the scorpion that was anything but dead and oh, so pissed off. There was quite a bit of shuffling, juggling and intakes of air before the little rascal made it onto the shovel and was carried out to the driveway, where I heard the satisfying sound of the metal shovel repeatedly banged on the driveway, no doubt putting the scorpion out of his misery, not to mention ours.
So, thus ended another in a very long line of odd encounters I’ve had. My husband went back to bed as did I, though I don’t think I got much sleep after that, trying to recall if scorpions dwell in nests and wondering if ours had “friends” who might come looking for him.
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