I have to confess --- I am a serial killer.
I have no choice. For the sake of my family, I have to kill.
A serial killer of lizards, that is.
Well, now that you are rolling your eyes and silently dissing me off for being so melodramatic, let me try and put forward my case so that my reputation does not completely go down the drain.
(Disclaimer: If you happen to be a fan of the World Wildlife Fund - WWF, or People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals - PETA, I do not seek to offend you. Can lizards be considered as animals anyways? Rest assured, I use humane 'killing' methods)
Let me put it to you this way --- how many of your boyfriends, partners or husbands would flinch and jump on the nearest chair the moment they spot a lizard, rat or cockroach (LRCs in short) in their path?
Yes, yes, I see many hands raised. Those of you who did not raise your hands, it's because you are idol worshipping your partner and their failure to catch LRCs do not perturb you the least bit; or you live in a completely sanitized place (like the Presidential Palace --- the Istana, where even ants are annihilated before they reach the palace gates...I'm kidding).
It's true.
Although Singaporean men are supposed to have undergone rigourous military training where we can kill with our bare hands, things become slightly tricky when we talk about LRCs.
Yes, I sadly admit on behalf of all Singaporean men, that we have phobias when it comes to pests in the house.
Story is told of how 3 grown men jumped onto chairs immediately when they spotted a rat running around in the basement of the building. They had to wait for a brave soul who happened to chance upon their predicament and he used a nearby broom to whack the critter silly.
Let's face it, LRCs are ubiquitous in Singapore. And while I applaud our town councils for their efforts to eradicate them, LRCs are just everywhere.
Imagine a scenario: Wife is in the kitchen when she sees a lizard on the milk powder tin. Junior is running around until he sees mom's mortified expression. Mom gives a little scream, Junior wonders what happened, and mom calls out for 'Daddy'!
Yes, that's me...Daddy.
Daddy is quietly reading his daily paper after a day at work, not seeking to get into anybody's way when the call of distress rings out.
(in Hollywood-esque fashion, the man usually rushes forward disregarding everything else to show that he is unfazed...truth is, my mind goes 'Sianzzzzz' instantly)
I poke my head out from the newspapers and ask, "Lizard issit?"
"It's on the milk powder tin!"
In all honesty, this is not so bad. Imagine you are in the car driving when the missus screams while you are making a right turn at a 4-way intersection!
"OK, Daddy to the rescue. Everyone clear out of the kitchen and go hide in the bedroom," I reply monotonously.
"Mummy sees Lizard! Mummy jump!" squeals Junior.
I remember the time when Junior first learnt the word 'Lizard'. He proudly declared his new found vocabulary in the car when mummy was sitting next to him at the back (I was the driver). To find out what happened next, go back 4 lines up.
With the family safe in the confines of the air-conditioned master bed room (door closed of course), I suss out the fella.
Yep, he's there all right. Cheeky enough to cock his slimy head towards me.
I have never found the best method for getting rid of lizards, although there is a lizard trap from NTUC that is terribly effective, but just too expensive. And so, someone's got to do the dirty job.
I usually get a plastic bag and wrap it arond my hands, thrusting my protected hand forward to make the kill.
Not easy.
Lizards are slimy creatures who are master wrigglers. If you are not careful, they will hop from the milk tin into your handbag or into another room...that's another story altogether. So we want to achieve a first time accuracy and efficacy.
These days, I try and spray some insecticide on it to make it groggy.
But this guy was on my son's milk tin. Insecticide was ruled out.
I stealthily moved the dining chairs in a position that would block off his escape path. The plan is to corner it into the ceiling to floor mirror and the glass panel separating the dining room from the kitchen.
Then I tried to grab it --- no success.
It cheerfully leapt off the tin onto a dining chair (don't tell my wife which chair) and scurried off onto the floor --- into the corner.
Perfect.
Insecticide phase --- blast away at the critter!
It took in a mouthful and then flipped onto its back.
Man has triumped once again.
Now that I have made the floor so slick with insecticide, I went over to the living room to grab some old newspapers to pick up the slimy one.
I swear that the fella was taunting me, for when I returned, he did a jackie-chan back flip onto its fours and stared defiantly at me.
OK, now I'm pissed.
I lunged at him...missed.
He was now on another carton box.
'Die!' I hissed as I emptied another breathful of Baygon into its face.
Seeing it being groggy momentarily, I swooped in on him and made the kill.
Success!
There was a little blood on the floor, and a wriggling tail, both of which I wiped up and threw into the same bag.
"All right people, coast is clear!"
"Wah! Daddy hero!" Mummy effuses.
"Mummy see lizard. Mummy jump!" Junior chants.
The critter is still struggling in the bag.
I walk to the chute, dump it in and that's that...or so I think.
I just realised that Junior's milk bottles were left to dry out on the dining table, pretty close to where I sprayed the insecticide.
Siannnzzzz...
Grabbing the whole lot of bottles and pacifiers, I walked to the sink and scrubbed them all over again.
'Overkill' is a word that keeps ringing in my head as I scrub the bottles.
Why didn't I just do like what my secondary 2 science teacher did? Seeing a lizard on the floor, she nonchalantly used her high heels and crushes the poor soul. She called the petrified class monitor to clean up the mess. Taking off the offending shoe, she simply wiped the base of the shoe on the floor, and continued with the lesson, "And so why do we have photosynthesis? It's because..."
