Big Bad Bug

Let me say this about that.

I was raised in a rural environment and have enjoyed the out-of-doors all my life.  But it hasn’t always been without it’s problems.  For some reason, I seem to bring out the worst in Mother Nature, especially when it comes to wildlife.  At the last accounting, I had been bitten by snakes, stung by bees, scratched by cats, mauled by dogs, kicked by horses, stabbed by stingrays, swarmed by ants, bitten by spiders, gored by bulls, stung by jellyfish, lacerated by barracudas, and any number of other wildlife altercations too numerous to mention – including an attempted “ear-rape” by a Indonesian Spider Monkey who had jumped up onto my shoulder, grabbed me by the head, and attempted “carnal entry”  of my right ear.  Removing a horny Spider Monkey from something he wants to screw is damn-near impossible, since the little bastard has four hands and a tail with which to capture the object of his affection.  The memory of the episode, even to this day, forces me to wear ear-muffs around monkeys — but I digress.

Bugs – if you can name a bug, I have been bitten by it.  In my opinion, all bugs are unpleasant, but that would be ‘bug-profiling’, which is now illegal in America.  As such, I will single-out only one species of bug for my daily diatribe…    Scorpions!!!  To say that I hate scorpions would be the biggest understatement since the Titanic was called a simple boating accident.  There is simply no redeeming value for the scorpions of this Earth.  My story:

Last spring, I arose from a pleasant night’s slumber to a beautiful morning of chirping birds, light breeze, and puffy white clouds.  Still not fully awake, I slipped on my shoes to walk to the corner for a morning newspaper.  Instantly, as I stuck my foot into my right shoe, I experienced a pain more intense, more agonizing, and more violent than anything I have ever experienced in my checkered past with angry wildlife.  It was like someone had taken a large nail, soaked it in the flame of a blow torch, and then jammed it into the end of my big toe.

I must take a moment here to ensure your complete understanding of this situation.  First of all, for those of you out there who do not have a big toe, I must first describe it’s anatomy.  The big toe has approximately 7 billion tiny nerve-endings, crowded into it’s tip, in an area half the size of a postage stamp.  The big toe has enough nerve-endings to sense anything that occurs within a quarter mile of it’s tip and makes a wisdom tooth nerve seem anesthetized by comparison. 

Now, drive a semi-molten nail into the tip of your toe and you’ve got a pretty good imitation of a scorpion sting.

Oh, but wait – that was the fun part.  A scorpion attacks by stabbing it’s victim with a jagged barb attached to the end of it’s tail.  But unlike bees, the barb does not remain stuck in the victim.  It remains with the scorpion – so he is free to continue to stab you in the big toe until your fat ass can manage to get your shoe off.  Somewhere between the seventh and eighth time I was stung, I was hopping up and down like a one-legged ‘River Dancer’ and still struggling to get my shoe off.  When I finally got it off, the scorpion crawled out of the shoe and looked up at me as if to say:

“What?’

I picked up the shoe and pounded the little bastard until he was no thicker than a coat of paint.  Before I could begin to fully enjoy the massacre of my assailant, the pain began to get worse.  I was screaming, cussing, yelling, and bellowing as I held my toe and resumed my one-legged ‘River Dance’.

Mrs. Shambo, who until that time had been resting peacefully in her sleep, came running out of the bedroom in a panic.  I told her what had happened and pointed to the spot on the floor where the scorpion ‘met-his-maker’.  She ran to the phone and called the “Poison Center” and asked for advice.  The good folks at the ‘Center’ asked her to describe the scorpion to determine if it was one of several dangerous species.  She replied:

Mrs. Shambo:  “Well, it’s about three inches in diameter and looks like someone spilled a tablespoon of bacon grease.”

I must admit, when I’m pissed, I tend to overdo things a bit.

The “Poison Center” told her it was probably a local species and there was nothing really that could be done to alleviate the pain except to pack my toe in ice and take an aspirin.

Shambo:  “Those quacks!!  I’m in mortal pain here and they want me to ice it down and take an aspirin?!?!

Mrs. Shambo, who is much calmer than I most times, brought me a teacup of ice and instructed me to hold it on the wound.  It was wonderful!!!!  The pain was dulled to the point where I could breath and speak normally.  This lasted for about two minutes until the ice melted —- more hot nails sticking into the end of my toe!!

I sent Mrs Shambo to the local “7 – 11″ for a ten-pound bag of ice.  I instantly buried my toe in the bag and experienced a relief as sweet as if I had injected 500 cc’s of morphine.  This was great – until my arms begin to ache at holding the bag on my toe.  As the “Poison Center” said that I may have to apply ice for up to two days, I needed a more permanent solution.

I sent Mrs. Shambo to the tool shed for the universal solution to any ‘guy’ problem – duct tape.  I wrapped the ten-pound bag of ice around my big toe and secured it with about sixty feet of duct tape.  When it was all done, it looked like a big grey basketball attached to the end of my foot.  I looked around and my adoring wife was about to pee her pants holding back her laughter.  She could tell I was not amused and left the room, but I could still hear her cackling in the other room.

I refilled Mrs. Shambo’s teacup with ice - surrounded by 500 cc’s of vodka – and choked down enough aspirin to anesthetize a Humpback Whale.  All was going well until Mrs. Shambo re-entered the room, laughing her ass off … and carrying a camera.  Here, sitting on her couch, attired in his underware with a grey basketball attached to his foot, dripping water all over the furniture, drinking vodka on the rocks at 7:30 in the morning, was the star of Mrs. Shambo’s next upload to “YouTube”.

This, I could not allow.

I ripped the bag of ice off my foot and hurled it at my bride, with the desired affect of taking away her desire to be in the area but also scattering ten pounds of ice all over the carpet.

Bad idea.  No ice, mucho pain!!

Eventually, things returned to normal at the Shambo address.  But now, I’m always on high alert for scorpions.  And yes, I still wear ear-muffs around monkeys.

And, that’s all I have to say about that.

Shambo