Scorpion Stepping

 When I was 4 or 5 years old I stepped on a scorpion. That's what I'm told at least. No one actually saw what I stepped on, but that's what the doctor decided and who's going to argue with him?
 I was outside helping my dad with the wood. He would split it and I would throw it into the back of the truck. We were doing this because the house we lived in had a wood stove and nothing else. We lived in "The Hobbit House" in Fordland, Missouri. It was referred to "The Hobbit House" by the locals because it had an unusual mushroom shape. Some hippie people built it a long time before. The windows were green because they were made from wine bottles. There was no bathroom so a separate bathhouse was built later. It was mostly wood and had an old dusty termite infested smell. It was built into a hillside in a way that the kitchen was underground and the back door opened behind the hill. I loved this house and if it still stands I would love to see it again. Anyway... because I was apparently the very definition of a "country bumpkin" I did not generally wear shoes. I stepped on something sharp and a little hurty. It didn't hurt much though so I ignored it. I ran into the house for dinner and by the time we sat down to eat the bottom of my foot had become one of those pogo balls. You know, that toy from the 80's that looked like someone took a ball and shoved it through a giant Frisbee and you were supposed to balance on it? Anyway, so the bottom of my foot has a golf ball sized lump protruding from it with bright red lines running from the lump and up my leg. I would later find out this was poison traveling through my veins. It would suffice to say that I wear my damn shoes outside now.