It's okay lil scorpion, you've just ruined my life.

I know bits ands pieces of scabby the scorpion's life story has made it to my buddies, but I wanted to have the entire catastrophe in print. So let's start at the beginning, and I promise no details will be spared.

It was a Thursday evening and my kids were fed, bathed, and in their pajamas. They both smelled like good parenting and well-adjustedness. They were both playing on the floor in my room while I frantically folded all the laundry I had thrown on the bed from the dryer. I make a stack for E, a stack for A, a stack of me and husband's loungey/watching VH1 shows/hopefully leading to tearing them off and playing where's the no no clothes, and a stack of clothes that need to be hung up. After I put away all the stacks except for the hanging clothes, because they suck the fun out of my life, I grabbed a stack of hangers off the floor and started inserting hangers in each sleeve. This took some time, so while I did this I talked to my children about the importance of always being calm and cool-headed. You never know when something may take you by surprise, and if you act panicky like a cracked-out schizophrenic 9 year old, then sometimes good decisions are hard to make. They nodded with understanding and went back to playing with their educational toys about Jesus and apples and I grabbed the hangered clothes and travelled to the walk in.

We have 5 bars in the closet for hanging clothes. Here are 4 of them. All 4 of these bars hang clothes that are made for a person with a penis. This leaves me with 1 bar.

I guess we should call it a third of 1 bar. Because husband's ties take up a significant portion of my hanging space. And yes, that's husband's dog sleeping on my Michael Kors shoes. I hope a scorpion crawls into her nose and lays scorpion babies.

Anyways, so you can see how I would be having to cram my clothes into my tiny allotted closet bar, and some of them were sticking out. So, while humming the Sound of Music soundtrack, I pushed the clothes back and smoothed out the newcomers. This is when I turned into a menace to south central.

I felt like my fingertip was the only thing protecting me from Satan in Afghanistan with a 12 foot needle that he just pulled out of the big volcano thing at the end of the Lord of the Rings. I immediately yelled EARMUFFS! to my children (okay that's a lie) and starting screaming obscenities, crying, convulsing, and wanting a twix ice cream bar. I said "WHAT THE FUCKING ASS HAT DEMON WAS THAT?" So I spread the clothes apart, and saw this crawling up my lavender shirt that makes my boobs look like I haven't knocked out a couple of offspring.

This is when things got interesting. My finger no longer belonged to my body. Its pain was too immense and selfishly affecting the rest of my working systems, so I had to disown the finger. Survival mode kicked in, and the finger's gotta go. Before finger goes though, lets go ahead and get that mo fo in a bucket of ice, because, damn. Let's make sure we're screaming, both of the kids are crying, and you're ripping off your clothes without your newly disowned finger, stomping your feet, kicking and wailing yourself around, whirling your hair- which was unfortunate in combination with the newly nakedness- and crying.

K. So E has shit the diaper, but ain't none of us going down on the floor, so she's gonna have to push the rhea against my hip, where she will stay until mommy can get a hold of her life that she thinks is over. By this time, I am sobbing and weeping so hard that I am having an asthma attack. Asthma attack leads me to panic, which leads to this new, fun, rainman kind of dance I started to do in my sports bra and panties. It went something like, step tap, shake out your right ankle, step tap shake out the left, step tap, maybe think about putting on some more clothing because you're scaring the children, step tap, sob, moan throw myself away from any room with carpet and decide the middle of the hallway is best. Randomly I would get spouts of "its on me its on me" and throw Ellis to the wolves while I shook all around and heaved huge sobs in and out.

Little A has taken on the role of the hero. He got his batman sword and tennis shoes on and marched straight back to the closet, where he poked through all my clothes, and then came back with the dramatic news he thought was good but could have gotten his sweet little face crushed :"Can't find him mommy, so don't worry! He's gone! yay! Let's play speedracer..." Then, like Lancelot, he turns slowly with his sword and puts his hand in front of me as though to warn me of my whereabouts in relation to something horribly scary that HE would take care of.

It was this, this sweet little green caterpillar who was here with his bible to represent peace and hope and all oth......

Adrian has annihilated this caterpillar with his sword, fist, shoe, book, hand, mouth, whatever he can to do splatter it as far as possible. It looked like we invented a new form of texturing called caterpillar massacring. Adrian looks proud and says "we got him, mom. You're silly, it wasn't a scorpion, you just got nibbled on by a caterpillar."

By this time, i've escalted. Husband and both parents have been called. Nobody had answered so I'm considering throwing the children in the front yard so they will have a form of safety called "stay the hell away from our crazy naked dancing mama"

Husband calls, he is sending my father over to help until he gets home. He tells me I am acting ridiculous and overreacting, when I really need to be concentrating on keeping my arm above my head so I don't die.

My dad cleans out the closet, can't find anything resembling a scorpion. My mother leaves work and brings me vallium, which made the pants go back on. This was a big step, in my mind scorpions have social events in my pink sweatpants from Forever 21. MY mom is running her fingers through my hair to calm me down and get me to stop step-tapping. She says "They're not aggressive, you just need to stay away" I said "MOM, sob, I WAS HANGING UP CLLLEEEAAAAAANNNN FRIKKIN CLOTHES, how much more aggressive can I get"

Husband comes home and cleans out the closet, I take my third vallium and make him go through the entire closet and floor and bed to make sure that little jackass's family isn't coming back for more of my soul.

Satan's spawn wasn't found for 3 days. I even made him a trap of a wet rag and some of my skin and crushed it into the corner of the closet. He didn't take the bait. I think he found the heaven dome I made for him, stung my skin, drank some water, took a nap, then took off to hide in my bathing suit. Then he and his friends and babies he has laid in sable's nostril all laughed at me.