As I lay my yoga mat on the wooden floor of the gazebo for my martial arts conditioning practice, little do I know that a war is about to be declared. I boot my MacBook, place it on a stool facing the mat, and launch the video. On the screen, Master Evans kicks off the warm-up: “Face the Buddha and bow…”
Twenty-five minutes into the workout, we reach my favorite part: stomach crunches. I hear a faint scratching sound above me: an iguana crawls along the beam that supports the roof of the gazebo. A thought crosses my mind as I inhale and exhale to the accelerating rhythm of the crunches, with the powerful voice of the Master as a metronome. “One, two, three, four, five…” Something falls from the ceiling in slow motion. I close my mouth, stop breathing, and place my forearms above my head. Instead of counting out loud with the master, I let out a loud “F**K!” I just got shat on by an iguana! The filthy animal hit the target twice: on the thigh and on the forearm. I wipe out the repugnant droppings and get up. If it’s War he wants, it’s War he’ll get. I pause the video, turning the Master into a still image in the middle of the 7th stomach crunch. The offender is still on the beam, beyond my reach even with a stick. I need a weapon, quick. A light bulb goes on: I fetch the telescopic metal pole used for cleaning the pool and return to the gazebo brandishing the maintenance utensil like a knight’s spear. The iguana’s body is protected by the beam but his tail hangs on the side. I hit it. No movement. I hit a second time, harder. The reptile moves by a few inches. I hit again, really hard this time. He starts running. Although I cannot see the creature anymore, I slam my spear against the beam. The shit-dropping critter runs for his life, jumps off from the roof (about 8-feet high), lands on the ground and flees to the nearest tree. Victory is mine!
This iguana will think twice before defecating on a martial artist.