The Scorpion Queen

As many of you may know, I have a fear. The symptoms associated with this fear include nausea, cold sweats, goose bumps the size of Kilimanjaro, rapid heart beat and dancing around on my tiptoes squealing many different languages; the origins of such languages are yet to be determined. Yes, I am talking about creepy crawly things yet again.

Believe me when I say, I do not enjoy talking about them. I would prefer they just leave me to my business and in return, I leave them to theirs. But for some annoying reason, unknown to me, it appears they enjoy sneaking up on me during the most unexpected times; therefore bringing on the above-mentioned symptoms of which I know no cure.

Now, I am a fairly decent person. I try to keep to myself in most cases. And even though I may not approve of things others choose to do, or they just simply creep me out, I will still remain open-minded and accepting. However, once the lines have been crossed and my space has been invaded, there are no guarantees.

This morning was a typical school day morning. We awoke, got Riley and Connor ready for school and out the door. I paraded around the house, starting on my list of to-do’s for the day when it happened. I was putting sheets into a large plastic zip-up bag and out of nowhere I was attacked by an enormous eight-legged alien.

It had many eyes, pinching claws and a poisonous hook on the end of his tail. It crawled out of the sheets next to my hand and down into the bag. With the stealth of a ninja, I lay the flap down on the bag and captured him inside with one quick zip. I immediately got Chet on the phone for guidance. “Capture him in a jar! You will be your son’s hero!” He stated, with no regards to his defenseless wife it seemed. Not knowing what else to do, I agreed to take a crack at it. Placing Chet on speaker phone and giving him a play by play of the battle, I grabbed my yellow rubber gloves and advanced on the unearthly creature.

Grabbing the first article out of the bag I quickly lay it on the ground, carefully unfolding it so as not to anger the beast. After thouroughly inspecting it I determined the first blanket was clear. I took a deep breathe and moved on to the second, a pale yellow fitted sheet, pretty and inviting on most days. I tossed it to the floor and knew deep down that at any moment I would be facing open combat. Before unfolding the sheet I peered into the bag to see if I could see it. It was there, perched on the next sheet waiting for me. I squealed and dove, barely escaping the piercing swipes as his tail whipped around searching for any part of my body to make contact with. Grabbing for my weapon, a .66 caliber mason jar, I swiftly swiveled around in a face-off with my enemy. We locked eyes, daring the other to break the hold. Slowly moving the jar closer and closer, careful not to make any sudden movements, I placed the jar over him and used the other hand to shake him free from his post. I placed the lid on the jar and set it on the counter.

I was victorious! And yes, I know that some of you may wonder why I would risk my life like that in attempting something so dangerous. All I can say is, a person does crazy things for those she loves.

Chet may question the events that I describe in this event—he heard them but was not physically there. But I declare to anyone that doubts—the evidence is in the jar and ultimately it is my story, I’m sticking to it. If you want to write your version, be my guest.