A Very Hairy Scary Incident
News from Roatan, Bay Islands, Honduras
23 August 2002
By Pierre Renaldo, The Coastwatcher©


On a late night visit to my kitchen recently, I was startled to see some slithery critter scampering behind my sink and disappear into an indiscernible crack , or at least is seemed so. Closer examination revealed nothing. It must have been my imagination, I thought to myself.

Perhaps it was just a trick that my aging, failing eyesight played on me. It seems I have experienced such optical delusions in the past, so I did not place much credence on my sighting, but instead reverted to the cowards way out and consulted the stubs in my check book, thereby establishing the date of the last visit by my pest control agent.

Right! It was almost exactly two months to the day since his last visit, so I patted myself on the back for the fine detective work and decided to call the office of the exterminating company next morning. Do not confuse this remark with any kind of mob activity friends. It would most certainly be a rub out for señior cucaracha, but a harmless event to all others, or so it seemed at the time.

As luck would have it, while I was in the checkout line in the grocery store next morning, in walks Julio, the young man who comes to my abode every other month to insure I do not have any encounters with the sub-culture of entomology a la Roatan.

“Ola`” says I, in my best Castillian Spanish. “ I have seen a creature running amuck in my cocina. It is almost exactly two months since your last visit, so I hope you can come by soon.”

“Si, Mr. Pierre”, he responded, “ how about tomorrow morning? Is 8 o’clock okay?”

“Wonderful, Julio. I sure don’t want to give those creatures any advantage. I cannot stand the sight of them, so I am looking forward to your visit. I find it most un-nerving whenever I see any of them between your visits. So we will have to do a very thorough job of it tomorrow.”

With that exchange we parted company. Sometimes fate plays nice tricks on me, I was thinking to my self. Imagine! I was going to call the exterminator’s office this very morning to make arrangements to have the house sprayed and Julio, the very person I was looking for walks in, as if on queue. Truly, the world is a stage.

The next morning dawned in a brilliant display of color and wild activity along the Cascade Coast. The wind was brisk, cool and a delight as I sat on the back deck taking in the spectacle of the Ironshore at the height of its most exciting stage, coupled with the kaleidoscope of brilliance coming from the sunrise. I had my hand over the cup to keep the wind from blowing the coffee out. What a morning!

Julio arrived on schedule, an infrequent event in this part of the world, another unexpected pleasantry causing the beginnings of this day to be most delightful.

As we walked through the house I was instructing Julio on where I thought we might be most vulnerable and as we began our assent to the kitchen level we passed an opening under the stair landing, a storage area with the door slightly ajar. “That,” I commented, pointing to the opening, “is a very likely hiding place for our enemies, so be sure to give it a good shot of your chemicals.”

Julio detoured into one of the bedrooms and I continued upward to replenish my empty cup. As I poured the steaming liquid I heard the strangest sounds emanating from directly below where I was standing. A shriek, a moan, a bang and a thump followed by heavy footsteps, scratching noises, screeching and general bedlam.

It was the first time in years that I took the steps two at a time, the sounds of disaster driving me to superhuman endeavor. What could be happening to create such a furor?

Julio was standing there shaking, his spray tank askew, the spray wand leaking the milky liquid onto the floor. The poor lad was in a state of shock.

“What’s happening Julio?”. It was a moment before he answered, and as he regained his composure he smiled and began to laugh.

“It was black, and it came out form under those stairs, like a wild black devil. I was so surprised! I had forgotten that you have cats. And one of them was hiding in the storage area under the staircase. I was so startled when it passed between my feet that I dropped the tank and that made the black thing bolt around the corner upsetting the lamp on your hall table. What a freight! I am sorry Mr. Pierre.”

“Oh, of course. That would have been Sammy, my black cat who is afraid of everything. When you sprayed into the storage area he must have become frantic, especially with the hissing sound your spay nozzle makes. I’ll bet he is whiter that you are right now.” With that we both had a good laugh.

All things considered, it turned out to be a good day for me.

The novel “Ironshore” was recently featured in the book review section of the Sunday New York Times. You can review it for yourself at:
http://www.1stbooks.com/cgi-bin/1st?partner~1st|type~6|Data1~9189

It is a wild story that takes place on Roatan and is based on actual events. One critic describes it as a “white knuckle page turner. This is one you will not put down ‘til you turn the last page.”

Another stated, “Pierre Renaldo should be rated as one of the best horror mystery writers of the decade, in company with the likes of Stephen King and Alfred Hitchcock.”

Questions or comments: elouis@globalnet.hn

Ciao
Pierre

By Pierre Renaldo, Mountain Coastal S.A,. General Contractors, Construction Management and Construction Consultants.