30 Mar 2010 - I was a man on a mission.
Her Royal Majesty took cover behind the sofa and gesticulated nervously in the direction of the sub-woofer in the corner. I had just stepped into the living room, bathed in the sweat of strangers on the MRT.
I took another look at Her Royal Majesty and instantly understood that I had an emergency on my hands. This is serious, I thought, as I carefully inched forward in the direction that she had pointed in.
I was right. The hemidactylus frenatus was perched on the wall next to the sub-woofer. Bane of houseflies and fair damsels alike, the common house lizard was a rare visitor in my abode. Nevertheless, its presence was undeniable and it was up to me to save the day.
As I approached, it lifted its head in anticipation. Small, black beady eyes glared at me. I crouched down and grabbed three sheets of tissue from the tissue box on the coffee table. Armed, I advanced even closer to my prey.
It fled. Scurrying away across the TV console towards the comfort of the curtains. Its movements were a yellowish blur, awkward and yet strangely efficient all at once. Her Royal Majesty emitted a girlish scream and hastily retreated into the kitchen. I pressed on in my pursuit.
I pulled away the curtains with a flourish, determined to flush the sneaky intruder out into the open. It froze for two seconds, then sped across the wall to the curtains on the other end. This only provided temporary cover, for I was right behind it to expose its new hiding place.
It must have been shocked by my relentless pursuit, losing its grip and dropping to the floor with an unceremonious "piak". For just a split second, it lay unmoving. Then it came to life and made a beeline for the darkest regions of the house --- the bedrooms!
There was no way that I would allow the foul creature to violate the sanctity of my resting place. I rushed ahead and quickly closed all the doors to the rooms. There was still a small gap at the bottom, but I now stood guard against any intrusion.
Its advance blocked, the creature made a u-turn and escaped into the balcony. I quickly ran into the balcony and shut the door. Unless it leapt off the balcony ledge to certain death, it had no escape. It was now just the two of us. Man versus animal. That was the way it was in Neanderthal times, and that is the way it is now.
I watched it scurry nervously around the ledge as I slowly closed in. With every step, it retreated further into the corner until there was absolutely no more room for it to maneuver. Then it stopped all movement and froze, perhaps hoping that it would be mistaken for a lizard-shaped lump on the wall.
I crouched directly in front of the creature and slowly extended my hand towards it. The tissue paper formed an envelope that cut off all escape routes. It was the first time that I took a good look at my prey.
It was pale cream throughout, with a single claw for each of its three toes on each foot. Somehow, my gaze became fixed on the claws. Long, slim, and above all, razor sharp, they were strangely similar to fingernails that were left uncut.
I could feel my shirt stuck to my sweaty back, and my pulse accelerating. In my 31 years of life, I had never once caught a lizard with my bare hands. I could always rely on my mum to trap and banish these creatures of the dark. Now, I was face to face and barely 30 centimetres away from a prime specimen. To say that I was anxious would be an understatement.
By now, Her Royal Majesty had emerged from hiding to watch the hunt. My stress level escalated knowing that I now had an audience scrutinising my every action. At this distance away from the creature, there was no way it could escape. Yet all I could think of were scenerios in which it made sudden athletic leaps into the air, landing on my hand, and tearing a good chunk out of it with its claws and teeth.
I was paralysed, with my hand frozen directly in front of the creature.
You can do it, you can do it, you can do it. I chanted to myself over and over again, conscious that my audience was baying for blood. I took successive deep breaths to steady myself.
With a manly shout, my hand shot towards the creature and caught it in a death grip. It felt somewhat soft and squishy, and for a moment, I wondered whether I had crushed it to death. But I had no time to indulge in idle reflection, quickly stood up, and hurled the entire package out of the balcony.
I had no idea if it could survive the 14-storey descent. Or if there were innocent bystanders who will curse at the sky for raining lizards and tissue paper. I had fulfilled my duty as protector, provider and man of the house. That was all that mattered.
I turned around to find Her Royal Majesty waiting for me. She gave me a tight hug and even called me her hero. I could only manage a weak smile in return.
All in a day's work, faithful readers. All in a day's work.
