I am a coward. I’m not as big a coward as I used to be but some things still scare the daylights out of me.

Centipedes are one of those things. Years ago when I was in my twenties I encountered a centipede. That encounter didn’t seem the least bit funny until I was much older.

I grew up in the central part of Colorado, where the centipedes were an inch or two long at best and hardly something to be frightened about. Sure, they sting but the scare factor was relative to their size and seeing one didn’t induce hysteria in me. Then I married and we moved to southern Colorado. The hot, dry climate there is apparently ideal for optimal centipede growth.

Centipedes have alot of legs - one hundred to be exact. The centipede uses it’s long lasso-like appendages near it rear to hold it’s prey while injecting venom as it bites.

One morning I went outside and brought the newspaper in. I sat down on the sofa and began unfolding the paper in sections as I read it. As I unfolded the last section, I was horrified to find a huge, nine-inch long centipede in my lap. I panicked and threw the newspaper and the centipede onto the floor. Then my maternal instinct took over. I was scared out of my wits and wanted to flee and never come back, but what if it stung the kids?

As it scurried toward the fireplace, I sprung to action. I couldn’t let it enter the fireplace because if it did … well we’d just have to abandon the house and move out. So I grabbed the first weapon I could find - a potted plant. I smooshed it.

Then I stood back and wondered…. What if it’s not dead? What if it escapes? OMG! Time for plan “B” but I had a problem. I couldn’t just lift the pot off of it because it might attack me! Hmmm, a butcher knife ought to do the trick. This is where my plan becomes brilliant, by the way. I lifted the edge of the pot a little and the centipede came out from under the pot a little. I repeated this process, cutting off small, half-inch sections of its body each time until it was in pieces. It was dead! What a relief! I am woman! Hear me roar!

Then I looked down at my feet and saw them! Now there were eighteen centipedes running in different directions! OMG! It… err… they are still alive! They were running in every possible direction! I multiplied my own terror! You would not believe how fast dismembered centipedes can run!

In a panic, I did what any real woman would do. I grabbed the kids, my car keys and fled. I spent the day away from the house until my husband came home from work.

If you must defend yourself, please think before you use a butcher knife to cut your assailant down to size. It might turn out to be precisely the wrong thing to do.