Dance with a Scorpion 2

My hand shook at each strike. The muscular insect or whatsoever it is still charged at me with its sharp tail set and ready to inject me again with its toxins if I should come closer.

I had struck it to coma when I lifted it with a tissue paper and headed towards the kitchen.
I was going to teach the muscular man how to keep boundaries.
I felt uneasyness at the spot that it had stung me as I placed the specimen carefully on my gas burner.

Carefully, I turned loose the handle of the gas cooker and watched as the scorpion reacted to the hushing sound of the gas escaping the noozle of the cylinder.

Slowly, I moved my lighter closer, and with a click, I got the scorpion dancing to all directions.
I allowed the barbeque burn to dryness before I picked and tossed it outside for the birds.