The maid came yesterday, she comes three times a week and cleans our house spotless. I heard a shriek and ran downstairs to see her doing the Jamaican dance of fear in my roommates bedroom.
“What? What’s going on? Are you okay.” I stated in a rather bland tone; she did after all, wake me from my slumber.
“I’m okay ma’am. But I no like the scorpion.” They are polite the maids in Cayman; I’ve asked her several times not call me ma’am, it makes me feel ancient but she persists.
“SCORPION?” Now it was my turn to dance the funky dance around the room.
“Ma’am you so funny when you dance like that. No worries, ma’am. I went and killed dem scorpion. Was a big one too, biggest one I evah see here. Was under his bed, ma’am. Can’t believe that, huh, ma’am. Under the bed.” My burning wish is for her to stop this ma’am business. What will it take?
“Let me see. You killed it?” Always skeptical is my tone when dealing with foreign creatures that can kill, maim or harm.
“Oh yes ma’am. I killed em wit da spray, he done dead now. Look at em, here.” She scooped the dead scorpion up with a tissue and planted it on the floor in front of my size nines.
What kind of surprise house guests do you find under the bed?