Probaditas de Morelia

This morning, after I took my shower, I was in my kitchen wearing flip-flops, rummaging around in the pile of plastic grocery bags under my sink. I was looking for a small bag to use for some old fruit when a large, grey, bug-monster darted from behind the pile into the middle of the kitchen.

"Ahhhhhhhh! Holy shit! A scorpion."

He crouched up against the wall, facing me. I could feel my heart beating wildly in my throat.

"Dammit. Shit! Is it the big ones or the little ones that kill you? In Cabo they said the little ones...right? But how little is little? Is this guy little? He looks pretty big to me...but not Clash of the Titans big. And are the big ones safe like kittens or only slightly less dangerous than deadly? Shit. Shit! Just remember he's more scared of you than you are of..."

He moved towards me.

"Wait, wait, wait. I thought he was scared of me!?"

He is between me and the one door out of the kitchen. I'm trapped. I know it's me or him so I grab the only thing handy, my trusty frying pan, and assume the gladiator stance.

"Bring it bug-monster."

Hearing my taunt he starts to climb the wall. (Seriously)
I guess stinging my foot isn't enough. This bastard wants to sting my face. All I can think of now is that damn Australian guy who wrestles with crocodiles and plays with spiders and scorpions. What an idiot.

I know the frying pan is the answer, but how exactly?

• The squash with the bottom of the pan? No, no. Not enough force plus visibility issues. You won't know if he's dead under that big round bottom or just preparing his counter attack.
• The smack with the side? Better visibility but the rounded shape requires deft placement to ensure a kill. A glancing blow will only cause him to dart off, frantically lashing out at his ineffective adversary.
  
• Or the chop with the rim. Yesss. The deadly rim chop. I like it. Swift and sharp without requiring too much skill.

Still in my gladiator crouch, I inch toward him. He's bold but so far appears unaware of the advancing threat. When I'm with in striking distance I prepare myself, give it one more look, and swing like hell.

Wham! The claw-half of his body goes flying.
I leap back in terror. His top half is running recklessly around the kitchen floor. I cower in the corner hoping to avoid his insanity. The severed, deadly(?) stinger lies on the floor next to the scene of our confrontation.

He's still moving but with less vigor. Finally he stops thrashing about and I feel brave enough to leap over him to safety. But am I really safe? I feel horrible. I'm sweating, my skin is crawling, my heart is beating at twice it's normal pace, and I'm convinced that every shadow is moving towards me. I can't believe I ever said anything bad about my nice, cuddly little ant intruders. I go upstairs for shoes and when I return he is still in the same place so I sweep my fallen foe and his stinger into the dustpan.

Wait a minute, wait a minute...did he just move? No, no, it can't be. He was severed in half ten minutes ago, there's no way.

I swiftly take him outside and shake the dustpan into the gutter. The stinger falls, the body doesn't. What the!? I shake it vigorously now and this time the body falls. As soon as it hits the ground he's off running in circles again. Still not dead. This guy is one hell of a fighter. Had I gone with my first thought, the flip-flop stomp, it would be me writhing around in the gutter and him retreating inside for a cup of coffee.