Scorpion Season

Scorpion season is upon us.  The dryer, warmer weather seems to have awakened the fiendish little arthropods from their dormancy.  Now, they've started to invade the homes, floors, clothes, shoes, and bedding of Monteverde, waiting to victimize any human who has the audacity to walk barefoot on her floor, put on her clothing and shoes without turning them inside out and upside down, or to climb into her bed without turning down the sheets.

This weekend, a friend found one crawling up her back during a dinner party.  The scorpion was summarily swatted to the floor and stomped to death by a professorial sexagenarian who moved with the speed and vengeance of someone half his age.

That same day Ernesto found a scorpion in his backpack.  Sunday night, we found one creeping along the floor near our shoes.  Last night, I found one slinking under the kitchen table.

Shall we take bets on when I'll be stung?  The scorpion's splattered corpse to the winner.

Check your shoes.  Check your clothes.  Check your bags.  Check your bed.  It's scorpion time.