…because I see no way that I’ll be surviving the next 24 hours. But before I meet my fate, let me tell you of how I stared down Death, and fucked up royally:
I had just pulled a load of my daughter’s clothes from the dryer and went into her room to put them away. As I entered, I saw the largest spider in recorded human history on the ceiling. Now, as many of you know, I’m not one of those lunatics who like spiders…no no, I realize their place as The Deadliest Force In Nature, and deal with them accordingly. Preferably with something heavy, from a distance.
I tossed the pile of clothes on the bed, and tried to figure out how to handle this monstrosity. I was going to try the “whip a large book at the ceiling” method, when the hamster-sized horror started to slowly descend. Oh, he obviously knew exactly what he was doing…he only came down maybe a foot-and-a-half. That meant he was too far from the ceiling for me to go with an effective ceiling-smush, but still too high up for me to reach with a tissue, or a sledgehammer (damn old houses and their 10’ ceilings!).
I decided that I was gonna have to get tricky. I took an unused photo album off the shelf and opened it. I figured that even though this eight-legged abomination was the side of a poodle, I still may be able to slam him in the book. The trouble was he was still just a bit out of reach. There was nothing stable for me to stand on in the room, and I knew that if I tried to leave and get a footstool, his dagger-like fangs would be in the back of my neck the moment I took my eyes off of him.
There was only one thing to do – I was going to have to go for the Jump 'N Slam maneuver – leap straight up and try and slam him in the pages of the book (I chose a photo album because the plastic pages would make it easier to scrape off the five or six pounds of spider goop I was expecting).
Time for action – I positioned myself under his horrid, couch-sized frame, and made my move – Leap! Slam! Land! Slip! Drop! Skitter! Augh!
An ineffective shot. And now there is an eight-legged deathbringer, roughly the size of Buick, loose somewhere in my house. Plotting…scheming…thinking of nothing but vengeance. I can only hope that he got out of that room, lest my beloved daughter fall victim to this horror first.
I knew I should’ve never made that stupid promise to my wife about not hunting insects with WD-40 and a lighter anymore. She obviously knows nothing about home protection, and now we’ll all be paying for that ignorance with our lives.
Godspeed to you all…I’ll miss you.