Scorpio

Meanwhile…

My recient sojurn to the monthly reptile fair got me 4 giant, black scorpions to replace the pygmy mice who failed to breed and then failed to live sometime last March. The pen was cleansed of mice, bedding and toys and remained empty until a good washing, some wood mulsh and a few heated stones - the enclosure was then deemed suitable for the world’s largest scorpions.

Scorpio imperitor is a resident of African rain forests and despite its menacing size, is actually the most docile member of its kind. Keepers routinely handle these giants, knowing their claws are far more damaging than their sting. Hence, they grab the tail and lift the arachnid onto a smooth skin surface. Once suitably accustomed to human pheramones, these arthropod beasts are prone to wander happily about
wondering where the next meal is.

I have decided not to handle what are most likley kidnapped African slaves designed to amuse me. I think it is sort of rude to grab their tails and lift them suddenly into the air like a hungry preditor. Hence, a glass barrier and my hopes they can neither jump nor are ever hungry enough to eat one another.

I believe I have solved the latter problem by gorging them on my abundant insect stock. Crickets are always relished, but two crab sized pincers and a tenacious propensity to use them means my new pets can actually help subdue my burgenioning population of giant cave roaches. Having erected a comfortable domicile beneith a rock, my new pets fled the opressive imperitives of captivity after an initial offering of lobster roaches.

One eventually emerged back into my world, an arachnid of unknown sex identifiable only by an uneven pattern in the segments on the back of its abdomen.

Ever hungry, it would happilly accept any squirming, doomed tidbit offered it via the steel pincers of my forecepts. As time passed, I began to notice it noticing me. Its eyes were clustered in the pit of a dimple on its back. I did not expect much visual acuity from such tiny beads, expecting this creature to rely far more on the touch its sensory hairs provided.

Its attention eventually caught my attention. Despite the fact I am almost half a century old, my own urges deem sexual release despite the fact I have never known a recipient to my endeavors. Well, not until reciently. Settling down before my cybernetic crytsal ball, I noted the residents of the left wing seemed to be skulking beneith their rock. The lizzards to my right were basking unseen and as reguards the far right, well, I had pulled down the shades.

The show began, and equipment in hand, I glanced left to see old crooked scales eyeying me from just under one of the rocks. It certainly didn’t seem interested in my presence when my pants where on.

Just what was it after?

Arthropods aren’t supposed to act this way.