Cue the Dueling Fiddles

Once upon a time, in the Land of Kieren, there lived a small belly that, yes, shook like a bowl full of jelly, whenever its small inhabitant made any sudden movements. (See above.) This magical place was safe and warm, if not slightly cramped. Many times a day, it was lovingly stroked, massaged with shea butter, and even masked in fine fabrics with striped and polka-dotted patterns.

Oh, the life of a fetus is rather exquisite.

This tale, however, includes graphic content – scenes of fear and horror, even!

As Mother Kieren awoke her settled brains from a long Sunday nap, her eye caught a small movement, a movement and shape that was all too familiar (and sinister). Lo and behold, a full-grown-spawn-of-Satan was there, prancing around on the navy blue belly, threatening to attack with its poisonous tail.

People, I woke up with a freaking scorpion walking around on my stomach!!!!

So, I screamed and shrieked as I jumped out of bed, flipping the scorpion off my dress. (Husband eventually killed it with the National Geographic on polygamy that I had been dying to read. Some things must be sacrificed to defeat evil, I suppose.)

!!!

The terror of this story is apparent. Therefore, I leave you with these thoughts:

1. I slept with a scorpion and there’s no way of knowing how long that scorpion had been using me as a hiking trail. Heck, it could have been cruising around on my face, for all I know.

2. Maybe I should have attended the last two hours of church, instead of napping.

3. Why are scorpions attracted to me? Does pregnancy increase this attractiveness? (Please no!)

Also, lest I forget... This was my Facebook status:

Kieren just woke up and there was a scorpion walking on my stomach!!!!

Many responded with the appropriate "OMG" or "that's scary!"

(Thank you for your concern, fellow humans with feelings.)

However, I had one person "like" my status, without leaving a comment. 

Tell me, what is likeable about a near death experience? 

Please friends, help me out with this, as it is hurting my PTSD brain.

(Also, I blame the "like" button, not the friend who "liked" my brush with death.  A "thumbs up" is just so darn ambiguous, for a person such as myself.)