My stomach growls, and suddenly I’m aware of the fact that I've neither eaten, nor had anything to drink, in quite some time.
It must be well past breakfast time. Now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure I heard a noise about ten pages ago, so perhaps that means there’s a meal waiting for me. I stand and stretch, then stroll to the front door, grinning like a fool over having written so much after such a long drought.
Ha! I knew I was right to ask that my food be left outside. Without the burden of knowing I would be interrupted thrice daily, it's like the floodgates of creativity have been opened and one of the greatest works of my generation has begun flowing again. Yes, for once I’m making all the right moves.
Well done, Pierce, you beautiful genius.
Yanking open the door, I look down to see that my breakfast has indeed been delivered, but is now being enjoyed by a rather large bright green iguana. Damn. It looks good too, and a little bit fancy, even. He's chomping away on what looks to be a mango cut in the shape of a flower. My mouth waters at the thought of some fresh fruit while the iguana stares at me and stops chewing.
“Shoo!” I say, waving my hands at him. “Go on. Go find your own breakfast.”
Instead of turning and fleeing like I expect him to, he maintains eye contact while bobbing his head up and down.
“What are you doing that for? Don’t nod at me. I said shoo. Fuck off. That'smybreakfast.”
The scent of something amazing wafts its way to my nostrils. Even though it's still protected by the silver cover, the thought of eating it kind of gives me the heebie-jeebies in case it’s somehow been infested by whatever disease disgusting lizards carry. But truth be told, I’m so hungry and it smells so incredible, I’m willing to risk it.
Why is he not yielding? I must be a threat to him, no? “Listen, you, I'm aman, and a hungry one at that. I would never normally hurt an animal, but in this case, I'm afraid I must insist that you leave.”
The iguana continues bobbing his head and pops up that big thingy underneath his mouth at me, taking a step forward so he has now positioned himself over my fruit plate.
Okay, you can do this, Pierce. You can get rid of this iguana. He weighs, what? Twenty pounds? Maybe thirty?
I clap my hands loudly, then take a couple of steps forward to intimidate him.
Huh. That didn’t work at all.
Leaning back slightly, I stick my flip-flop-clad foot out towards him, trying to nudge him away from the food. And that's when he makes his move, launching himself onto my ankle and clamping down with his sharp teeth while he scratches the living shit out of my leg.
“Ouch! Shit! Motherfucker!” I scream, swatting at him with my right hand which turns out to be the worst move ever because he has much faster reflexes than I thought.
I holler as pain sears through the hand that he is now attached to by his giant venomous teeth. I try to shake him off but he only grips harder, tearing the flesh on the back of my hand and my palm as he hangs from my appendage.
“Fucking hell!” I shout, aiming for the side of his face with my left hand so I can punch him with everything I’ve got.
He wriggles suddenly and I end up punching my own thumb which cracks loudly.
“Shithouse mouse!” I yell, for some unknown reason.
It worked! Thank the lord!
As soon as he drops to the ground, I use the opportunity to retreat into the villa. Slamming the door behind me, I lean on it, my heart pounding and my breath jagged as I hold it closed in case he tries to get in. When I finally process what I’m doing, I shake my head at myself. Lizards can’t open doors. They don’t have opposable thumbs.
The crisis now averted, my brain begins to process the pain that pulses through my right hand and my leg. “Shit, that hurts.” I gingerly lift my shredded Theory chinos to examine my ankle, feeling slightly lightheaded as blood seeps from my wounds. “That's bad. That really hurts so much more than I thought it would.”
My ‘king of the world’ moment was incredibly short-lived, wasn’t it? I’ve been ousted from the throne by a fucking lizard.
Limping to the bathroom, I leave a trail of blood through the villa as I go in search of a towel. Suddenly, Emma and her attempt to dissuade me from having the food left outside pop into mind, and it becomes clear what she was going to say. She was likely about to explain that there are wild animals out here who will happily attack me for their share of my breakfast, but I was too pig-headed to listen. Instead, I shut her down as though she would know nothing of the subject.
Shit, I really am losing a considerable amount of blood. And thumbs are definitely not meant to hang limply from your hand. I need help. I start for the radio when I remember the damn golf carts can’t make it until the path dries out. Shit. And it’s not like any of the staff will be able to carry me down the mountain (not that I’d allow myself to be carried, no matter how badly I’m injured. I am a man, after all). I have to walk down myself.
Wrapping my hand in a towel, I limp to the front window to see if my scaly nemesis has left yet. Nope, he’s still scarfing down my meal. “Bastard.”
I’ll go out the other way. Not that I’m scared of a lizard, mind you, but I’d likely kill him if he attacked me again, and I’d feel just awful about it.
I exit the villa through the patio doors that lead from the bedroom to the deck overlooking the jungle. Sneaking my way around the opposite side of the building, I keep a lookout for my opponent. When I'm safely several feet away from the house, I tiptoe through the grass to the path like Barney Rubble bowling. My ankle throbs with every step, and I suddenly realize I’m not entirely sure when I've had my last tetanus shot.
It's up to date, isn't it? Mrs. Bailey takes care of booking all my medical appointments. I'm sure she wouldn't have let it lapse. I should call her just in case, though.
