Al proceeded to show me how to kill a scorpion. First, he got a huge kitchen chopping knife, then he cut off the tail, scooped it up onto the knife blade and proceeded to jump up on the table rather flamboyantly! He pulled out some matches lighting one and started a little fire to burn the tail in a special brass bowl. He told me this is what you have to do to kill a scorpion, chop off the tail and burn it! It was quite a little complicated ceremony! I hoped I'd never see one on my own as I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to chop off its tail so mercilessly. Some part of me really didn't believe this demonstration, but Allen had a way of convincing saps like me to believe his crazy stories. He calls it being playful!
My only other scorpion incident up to this moment was living in the little school house near Christina Woodruff. My boyfriend Josh, the White Prince of Reggae, insisted on putting it into a jar of alcohol and for several days that poor scorpion suffered at our hands. I never forgot that and vowed not to kill one unless I absolutely had to do it and no more slow torture, it had to be a quick kill of some kind. The negative energy coming off that little jar is still vivid in my mind and those that insist on putting scorpions in alcohol for medicinal purposes are being cruel in my opinion. They should at least kill them first.
The day came that I saw one crawling in my clothes on the closet shelves. I was living in Casa Cynthia then, which is now Casa Sol on the water. Old John Williams (Cynthia's dad) was my landlord and he lived in the Crow's Nest above me. That house is called Casa Estrella today. I freaked...I had no big chop knife anywhere near me at the moment. I screamed for John to help me. He ran down from the top house, pulled off his flipflop and gave the critter a hard slap killing it instantly.
I realized Allen had punk'd me that day and, thereafter, I knew I could dispose of the next scorpion when necessary.
