I was downstairs watching a replay of tonight's Mets/Phillies game while deciding whether to play video games or check email, facebook, etc. Kim, my girlfriend, had gone upstairs to go to bed, and Grace, our dog, had followed. I was interrupted in my contemplation by Kim hollering, "Brian!" I responded with a prompt, "Yeah?" Which she countered with a strained, "Can you come help me with this." Now, you must understand, I can't remember the last time Kim asked me for help. With anything. So, wanting to be her hero, as all men do with all women, I hurried upstairs to assist with whatever it was she needed.
I arrived at the door to our room and there stood Kim, just inside. She stood with one arm at her side and the other holding a glass to the door, at about the height I would need to try to listen in on a conversation on the other side. Then I saw the problem. Inside the glass was about two inches of fury. Yellow and thin, the stinger was extended straight and it was hard to identify without the signature curved tail, but after just a second, and Kim saying, "I think it's a scorpion," I thought so too. Grace had spotted it on the door and watched it as it ascended, alerting Kim to its location.
Turns out, all she needed me to do was find a thick piece of paper to put between the door and the beast. Not exactly a knight in shining armor, but I was happy to oblige. I watched while she slid the paper masterfully under the legs of the arachnid, then moved the whole package to the edge of the door, and finally turned the glass to its natural, upright position with some struggling to get the scorpion off the paper and down into the bottom of the glass. I read later that scorpions can't climb glass, but I'm not sure how much comfort that would have offered Kim as she walked the creature to the middle of our street and tossed it out of the glass.
In an effort to assuage both of our fears, I looked up scorpions on Wikipedia. The idea was to find out that the species we had just encountered, and Kim had bravely vanquished, was completely harmless to humans. As I read I found that only about 25 of the nearly 2,000 species of scorpions can kill with their sting. Good. Reading further I found that a couple of those species live in the Southwestern United States. Not as good, but still not bad odds. I then found the name of the most venomous scorpion in the area, the Arizona Bark Scorpion. Ok, we're close to Arizona. So I clicked on the link and found pictures of a yellow scorpion with a skinny tail. Damn. Even more comforting was a tiny part of the article that said that an antivenin was once available specifically for the bark scorpion but was taken out of production by the FDA due to problematic side-effects. Great. Mission accomplished. Kim should have no trouble sleeping now. Further research revealed that less than 1% of those stung ever reach a point that could end in a fatality, and thousands are stung each year. Some relief, but certainly not comforting.
In summation, scorpions are interesting creatures, Kim is going to be up all night, and I know why she doesn't ask me to do much. I did learn that if you want to find scorpions easily, you need a blacklight, they glow under the UV. Mine are in the garage. Don't think I'll be digging them out tonight.
Brian William Waddell is a foodie, beer geek, and author. His numerous blog posts range from food to politics. He also has a book of poetry, Fractured Prose, available here, and is ready to publish his second poetic endeavor.
Brian William Waddell is a foodie, beer geek, and author. His numerous blog posts range from food to politics. He also has a book of poetry, Fractured Prose, available here, and is ready to publish his second poetic endeavor.
