My Godzilla

There are very few things that totally and completely freak me out.  In our home, for example, I handle the spiders and bugs.  And, ahem, "mice".  It really doesn't bother me.

But snakes...  Not on your life!  I do not like them or their ugly cousin the lizard.  They pretty much put me over the edge and that doesn't seem to be mellowing with age.

Case in point--

Recently I was chatting up my husband on the telephone while packing for a mini vacation.  We were leaving the next morning and I wanted to be sure I had everything in the suitcase.  We'd run down our usual check list of warm weather packing and I'd forgotten flip flops.  So, I open the closet door and reached for my favorite orange pair and, and, and...

Oh.  My.  Gawd!!!  There was a huge, Godzilla-sized lizard stretched across the front my shoe closet.

And I almost touched it-- With my bare hand!

I was screaming to my husband to come home and help me but he heard nothing.  I was so scared, that despite my best efforts, no words escaped.  In an instant, through the hysteria, I knew that something had to be done but I was not touching that monster.  No way.  No how.

After nearly hyperventilating I'd made enough noise that the Godzilla withdrew into a shoe cubbie in our bedroom closet so at least I knew where it was.

I caught my breath, told my husband to come home immediately and then got down on my hands and knees, butt in the air, so I could see into the cubbie that was only 8 inches off the floor.
I vaguely remember Husband mumbling something about taking care of it but hung up the phone before he finished.  He knows my fear of snake things and I was confident he'd burn rubber the entire mile and a half drive from his office to our home to save me.

Confident Husband would arrive VERY soon, I mustered the courage to slowly remove shoes from the cubbie so I had eyes on Godzilla again.

He'd stretched out the length of the back of cubbie with the tip of his tail curved to fit.  In other words, he was a whopping 15 inches long!!!  Oh no, I didn't call him Godzilla for nothing!  This guy was BIG and he was in my bedroom shoe closet.

Without a doubt, I knew that if I lost sight of Godzilla before Husband got home to remove it, we'd have to sell the house.  I absolutely would not be able to stay here ever again.  And I'm not kidding.

Call me crazy but I hate lizards and snakes that much.

So there I was, my arthritic knees aching and feeling like the blood circulation in my legs was nearing its end.  My head, bent down to see into the cubbie, throbbed, and I was in a panic that Godzilla would make a move before I could figure out how to trap him in place.

What to do, what to do.

I finally spotted a clear plastic bin not far away that was the exact width of the cubbie so I could see what Godzilla was up to.  But, it had small 1/4 inch holes in it.  I sized up the holes and the lizard and was confident in thinking Godzilla would never fit through them.  He was a very big guy and these hole were pretty small.

Thank gawd.

So while keeping eyes on Godzilla, I maneuvered around to reach the plastic bin with my foot, kicked it contents and slammed it up against the cubbie.  I swear I heard the angels sing.  What a relief. 

Godzilla and I stayed in place--  Me, still bent over on my knees and him, calmly stretched out in my cubbie.  For SURE, I thought, Husband would be home to rescue me any second.  After all, it had been at least 30 minutes since we were on the phone.  WTH?!?!?!

Tick, tick, tick, tick....

Godzilla started looking board, his neck stretching out as if to get a better look at the situation.  I squeaked out some nose to scare him to stay in place but he'd been there so long he was ready to make a move.

I was so stinking happy to have that clear plastic bin covering the cubbie opening holding him in place.  I wouldn't have to touch Godzilla with my bare hands or worse, risk loosing him all together, and that was a very good thing.  He could move around the cubbie all he wanted but he was not going anywhere.

Right?

Wrong.

Godzilla got his nerve up, despite my screaming, and crawled into the plastic bin.  Then he stuck his head though one of the 1/4 inch holes.

C.R.A.P.

Where was my husband!!!

Then he did the unthinkable!  Godzilla started squeezing his BODY through the holes as if someone had pulled the strings on a very tight corset making him freakishly thin.  I became a lunatic screaming, this time a loud shrill streams of !@#%$! and I banged on the bin with my shoe until he squeezed his sorry self back into the cubbie.

I nearly had a heart attack.  Godzilla actually looked unfazed.

Still on my knees, butt in the air, I called that lizard and my missing-in-action-husband every name in the book.  If Godzilla so much as blinked I screamed him back into the corner.

We sat there like that-- blinking, screaming, backing up, for another full hour before my husband calmly walked in and asked if the "little lizard" was gone.

One look at my ghost white face and the darts shooting out of my eyes at him was a solid clue that the lizard was still in 'da house.

I immediately sent husband to find a few supplies that would allow him to slide Godzilla out of the cubbie and into a box with a secure lid so he could be removed.

Ten minutes later and with none of the supplies, I agreed to change positions with my husband providing he swore on his children's lives not to take his eyes off Godzilla-- and yes, that meant he would need to be on his knees, head bent down to the ground at eye level resulting in his butt being in the air.

Husband also agreed that if he lost that lizard I would immediately be moving into the Four Seasons Hotel until a new home had been found for us to live in-- I was taking no chance at crossing paths with Godzilla ever again.

Husband knew better than to disagree with me.

We made the guard duty switch and off I went gathering the necessary supplies.  I returned in less than 3 minutes and prepared to pass the box to Husband.  But...  Husband looked a little green in the face.

Apparently Godzilla tried to make a quick escape through the plastic bin holes in my absence and Husband saw his life, and our bank account, pass before his eyes until he got Godzilla under control and back in the cubbie.  (In hindsight, I'd have liked to have seen that.  Ha!  Coming home an hour and 45 minutes after I screamed on telephone.  Sheesh.)

So now it's obvious that Husband, who is not good at this kind of thing anyway, was not going to do the deed and get Godzilla into the box.  That would be my job.

Again, I made him swear that if anything went wrong and Godzilla was not removed from our house, that I would be living elsewhere.

With the patio door to our bedroom wide open, I said a prayer and wiggled Godzilla into a box using a backscratcher.  He flopped in and the lid was slammed shut.  My hands were shaking and I could feel Godzilla moving around in the box.

By now,  it was all I could do to stand up.  My legs were numb and with the box in my hands I couldn't use them to help me up.  That freaking lizard took years off my life.

When I finally made it to the patio, I flung the box as hard and as far as I could-- Watching Godzilla exit the box and swan dive onto the grass.  He landed, shook himself off and sauntered into a heap of yellow tiger lilies by the pool... Before losing sight of me, he stopped, looked over his shoulder and gave me a look like "I'll show you lady."

And he did.

Because now I can never go into the back yard again.

What scares the daylights out of you?

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