I threw the folder on the floor, and stunned the poor beast with pine and heather air freshener, urgently calling Marthame (the one wearing shoes). He came and valiantly mushed the fresh-scented scorpion.

Later, in the spring of 2001, I saw another scorpion, this time minding its own business under a rock in the hills. Unfortunately (for it) the kids who found it also mushed it with a stick.