I’m deathly afraid of fish, rather than spiders, live fish, although I’m not apt to go running out of an aquarium shrieking and screaming in the throes of a major panic attack. In fact, once you learn that I was once stuck in middle of the ocean, ensnared in the tendrils of a Portuguese Man ‘o’ War until I was blistered and raw, my fears of fish seem a little less absurd.
Probably only a little, though.
When I was a waitress, I worked at an outside restaurant right on the river here in Geneva, and one of the jobs in the morning was to clean out all of the cobwebs that sprung up overnight, so that the spiders wouldn’t *ahem* shit on the guests while they ate their overpriced burgers.
Your Aunt Becky knows how to be glamorous, eh?
So, when I woke up on Saturday morning to find this on my back door, as I went out to lovingly minister to my roses, I was mostly amused:
My recreation is stunning, I know. It’s so…realistic!
I did the mother fucking limbo to get underneath it so that I could tend to my roses, and made a mental note to watch the hell out for that web. Spiders eat mosquitoes which are the Devil, so I like them around.
But Friday was also Of The Devil and Your Aunt Becky got a migraine as karmic payback for past misdeeds, so by that evening, after I’d finally gotten the last crotch parasite to bed, screaming her ever-loving head off, I went back outside to water my exotic plants. I’d only bought them, you see, because their names sounded like STD’s and turns out that they need a whole TON of water to stay pretty.
Still suffering from my migraine, my earlier mental note had been tossed aside to make room for the lyrics to “Baby Got Back” and I walked face-first into the spiderweb.
While I appreciate SPIDERS, I do NOT appreciate a face full of spider WEBS and I made my displeasure known by shrieking and then running around my yard impotently for a couple of minutes yelling, ‘GET ER OFF, GET ER OOOOFFFFF.” But the yelling and running only drove the spider webs into my mouth, and then, because I’ve recently lost enough weight and not bothered buying new pants, my pants fell down, I stopped running around, and went back inside to wash the spider web off.
When I came back outside to gather my gardening sheers, some 45 minutes later, I noticed two things:
1) the spider web had been entirely rebuilt.
b) It now had an occupant. A big gigantic red occupant.
“Hey buddy,” I said to it, because I was deliriously migrainey and Charlotte’s Web made me cry like a baby. Plus, a spider that big is always a good ally.
I ducked under the spider web–no way I was about to make THAT mistake again!–and as I was halfway through, the big ass spider spun some web out of its ass and swung itself towards me.
“WOAH,” I cried, as I stepped back, off the porch step. I’m okay with spiders, but this didn’t seem like an overly friendly gesture to me. I grabbed my garden sheers from the table and headed back towards the back door, preparing to go inside.
Casually, I eyed my door-dweller. It stared back at me and lifted one leg at me and shook it menacingly.
No, I rubbed my eyes, that’s the headache talking. It has to be the headache talking. I looked down at my poo-eating dog, Auggie, who was standing next to me, and he looked back at me as if to say, “I dunno.”
Figuring something as small as a spider couldn’t possibly have a vendetta against me, I tried to step back through the doorway. AGAIN the spider spun some web from its butt and lunged at me.
I shrieked and jumped backwards off my stoop, shockingly, not landing on my ass.
The spider wasn’t a regular spider. It was a MAN-eating spider. The spider was going to KILL me for ruining its web!
I went around the outside of my house and through the front door, where I then observed my enemy from the inside. It had caught a bug and slowly eating it while watching me and I swear he was winking at me.
Every now and again, it would raise a hairy leg toward me as if to say, “I’VE WON.”
Then I realized, I could never go to sleep again. EVER. Because that spider not only knew where I lived, it had a VENDETTA against me. It would wait until I slept and lay EGGS in my EARS and then pretty soon, my brain would be full of spider babies.
I got out an icepick, a six pack of sugar-free redbull and lay in wait. Knowing that the spider would come for me, and when he did, I would be READY.
Tragically, The Man Eating Spider had another idea in mind. He hit me where he knew it would hurt most.
Yes, Pranksters, The Man Eating Spider killed MY FAKE CAT MR. SPRINKLES!
That BASTARD! How could he kill my FAKE CAT!?!
But I showed him! Ben crushed his web once more that morning, like the Man Eating Spider crushed my DREAMS for my FAKE CAT.
*shakes fists at sky dramatically*
WHY, MR. SPRINKLES, oh, WHY DID YOU TAKE MY FAKE CAT FROM ME?
P.S. Now I need some good bug stories, Pranksters.