They are everywhere. When you look up, you can see their black, beady eyes staring at you. But wait. You look to your right. To your left. Everywhere. No matter where you look, you can feel their piercing stare even when you try to avert from their baleful gaze. They smack their tongues, as though they were contemplating licking you. Maybe, even eating you. Alive. Then, all of a sudden, one of them unleashes a sickening sound that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand. You run away, desperate. Desperate to get away before they can catch you. You scream. You shout. Like in the movies, you flail your arms, run aimlessly and somehow manage, inexplicably, to trip on your own feet. And then you hear it. Unmistakeably, it’s the sound of laughter. You turn to see your friends clutching their stomachs, tears stream down their cheeks.
After all, it was only a small house lizard.
I wish I could say that this really happened, but sadly, it didn’t. The terror bit is true, though. On my last holiday trip with my friends, Sardine, was terrified by the plenteous amount of the sticky blighters. When we had to head back to our room she would grab the railing, stick her body to it and walk ramrod straight and wouldn’t look anyway but ahead. Of course, me and Fillit being the not-so-gentlemen, decided to tease her incessantly. “Ooo, it’s looking at yooooooooooouu!” “Methinks the cute bugger is in lurrrrrrrrrrve with youuuuu.” “Wakaka! You be liked by lizzzzards!” You know, the sort of moronic jokes we guys love to pull. It was fun for awhile, but when she turned white (actually whiter, she’s quite fair) and was close to tears, so, we being the ever chivalrous gentlemen, immediately stopped.
On my side, I’m not exactly afraid of lizards but I’m also not fond of them either. It’s when the lizards just pop out, literally out of nowhere, i.e. me wanting to brush my teeth that sort of scares me. And I use sort of very loosely.
Heights don’t really scare me, too. I do get vertiginous but at the same time I feel attracted to it. Odd, isn’t it? It’s like swimming with sharks. I’ve never done it but I would love to. Sharks scared the crap out of me when I was young, no thanks to the monumental and “there’s gonna be some dead fishes by the end of this” movie, Jaws.
My sister always asks me, after watching shows like Fear Factor and The Amazing Race, “Would you do those things?” My response would always be an immediate one: “Hell Yeah!” I want to bungee jump. I want to eat live octopus in a South Korean wet market. I want to chase cheese in Gloucestershire. I’ll eat anything in order to win anything. I want to go mountain trekking with the locals and discover weird plants that may or may not be fatal if I were to touch it.
What’s the point of going through life without taking risks? Wouldn’t it be nice to look back when you’re old and slightly paunchy and go,”Damn, was I stupid! But it was darn good fun!” ‘You only live once,’ so goes the saying and I fully intend to do so. But most importantly, I want to live life to the fullest and have fun while doing it.
Now, would you care to join me for some grub soup? I’ll let you keep the teddy bear. I promise.
This is Chris, signing off.
PS: There are some things I won’t do, naturally. For instance:
1. Have multiple hooks pierce my back and be suspended in the air. I’m sorry but looking like a roasted duck doesn’t work for me.
2. Race on the highway with some potty-faced dimwit.
3. Go on a date with the Williams sisters. They really do scare me.
PPS: To Lady Elastic: I'm back and so's the fresh produce!