Seems to me, every time I went through jungle school down in Panama, they had an instructor wheeled in, suffering from "two-step" poison.
Sure added emphasis.
The first scorpion I ever saw was when I turned on the light in the living room in Havana. I had been watching "Sea Quest," and went to get a beer at the commercial. That bad boy was 5" and was on a cushion across the coffee table from me. After my heart went back to my chest, having traveled up my throat, I picked up a running shoe and approached the cushion from the left. I picked the cushion up and shook it, dropping the brute down the to terrazzo floor. I smacked it once and it hardly made him (or her, I wasn't about to examine it) look up. I hit it a second time and the brute figured I was serious. After the third smack, he was KIA. But there was no mess on the floor; his shell was that hard.
One of my buddies there had been the Commander of the Special Forces SCUBA school in Panama. He said that when he was at the Jungle Operations Training Center at Fort Sherman, one of his instructors told him that if he were to be stung by a scorpion, he should immediately cut the brute in half with his bayonet, and as its juices were flowing out, he should rub that on the site of the sting.
My gardener in Havana told me that to avoid being stung, one should grab the scorpion in one's fist, thereby limiting Brer Scorpion's ability to swing his tail.
Ladies and gentlemen, there are two theories that are going to remain untested by the Axeman.