Before I tell the story I gotta give some background. Early in my marriage I returned home one evening to a very unhappy husband. He hardly ever is unhappy so when he’s upset we know it’s gotta be bad.
Anybody that has known us for any amount of time will remember Mr. B had quite the mullet. And, he made sure it looked good. This is what happened: Christopher used Mr. B’s expensive hairspray on a roach. Mr. B. was fit to be tied. All’s I could do was laugh. My son learned from the best-Mama does not kill anything that might go splat. Bug splat, crunch, whatever you want to call it, is gross. If there is a chemical that can get it done neater that is the route we’re taking. And that is how life had been. Before the scorpion.
Hark, it was neither! It was a scorpion. Usually when I encounter these I cover them with a glass, get a paper to go underneath and set it free to die in my bug sprayed yard. Maybe it was the stupor, or maybe I hold toilet paper more sacred than even I realize because something in me snapped.
Zuess has his lightning, Xena Warrior Princess has her sword. Mrs. B. has the pink fli
But I digress, the scorpion the flip flop. A warrior yell screamed through my entire being and I hit that scorpion so hard it didn’t splat. The pincher and one of the legs flew several inches away from the arthropod carcass. Upon inspection I regretted that nobody would be able to witness how well I protected them.
It was then disposed of in the toilet, that I refused to use subsequently because I was afraid that sucker would come back up and try to bite me in the…well you get the point.
