A trecherous night

Once upon a Tuesday night, in the days of our Lord.
I felt the sharp pain burning deeply into my right leg.
I stoodup immediately. "This cant be an Ant sting" I murmured.
Everyone around are now atalert, wondering why am almost dancing.
"get me a touch" I bellowed.
Alas ! There it stood !
The little but mighty enemy, hiding beneath the gown of night, illuminated by tourch in my left hand. I have just been stung by a Scorpion !
I stood face to face with the enemy. My right leg almost paralysed with pain.
But everyone around there are women and children whose company I enjoy so much after terrible days in Academy. So I dare not show pain. I dare not appear affected.
I moved closer to the enemy. I saw it raised its attention too. And there stood a mortal and a tiny beast, in an unprovoked duel.
I raised my left leg, and with the spirit of a Spartan, the might of Zeus and the stregth of Herchilles, I crush the beast to death.
Behold, the Scorpion beast, enemy of our happy gathering
was defeated !
Just then I realised that my right leg had beggan to swell, and almost entirely paralysed.
Its my first time. So for a while I lost it. I could not think, I could no talk. I stood cönfused amidst my folks shouting different solutions.
Just then, from among the chaos I picked out the voice.
"lets go to Alhaji, he will call out the venom ! "
Alhaji, my wise grandfather. The venom must have first neutralize my thinking power.
Because I have seen my grandfather took out the venom from victims so many a time. In fact, he has taught me the godly chants.
But I neither remember my grandfather nor the godly chant. A Scorpion sting spare no brain.
Into the compound I fled. As fast as my one and a half leg could carry me. And behind me thrönged my folks some of whom were from the start, some of whom join the drama, and some of whom fled with us because they saw us fled.
"Alhaji, I have been stung ! " I bellowed as I forcefully pushed his door open.
"place my hand on the spot" his old and sleepy voice said.
He is over hundred years of age. The oldest alive of all my kind.
"Bismallah..." he said, as he began the chant.
I almost lost it there, because the dark powerful chant he taught me did'nt start with "Bismillahi rahman raheem".
But I was back there when what followed the "Bismillah..." was the powerful, dark chant.
At once, the pain was gone. The venom died.
It be dark magic or it be miracle I care not, as I fled back into the treacherous night to broker the news of the total victory to my friends near and far away.
It was an immortal experience. A trecherous night worthy of a cast upon my sand of time, call dairy.