Itsy-Bitsy Spider

                It was a terrible day at work. I drove home in the pouring rain as the cold front came through with strong winds. My poor little Geo Prism basically flew around in the wind. I loved my car, but a lot of the time it felt like I was driving a toy right out of a Happy Meal from McDonald's. My boss was a real jerk today and honestly I kind of look forward to my monster infested apartment. Sometimes the real world can make a horror story look like a fun night of relaxation. I guess that may sound a bit dramatic to some, but once you seen the fangs that some people have in customer service, you’ll agree. I had a lady cuss me out over the phone because when the delivery guys dropped off her couch today they scuffed up the leather a bit. You might be sympathetic to her frustration, but the scuff was on the underside of the couch. The underside. Not one person can or ever will see the mark until they pick it up to move it, but apparently that’s enough to call me, a stranger who didn’t even touch the couch, a baffling idiot. People: making monsters seem like fun. I arrived and opened my door and just said the same word over and over again in shock: “Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope.”

                My apartment, from wall to wall, was covered in thick, gray webs. It’s like someone hadn't cleaned in a long while and some spiders were slipped some cocaine. It was thick as I stuck my hand through the first strand to break through. I could just decide to not go in, but the problem with this curse is it’s not stationary; it will follow me no matter where I go. If I slept in my car, there would be a car filled with spider webs right now. I might as well keep this nastiness out of sight of nosy neighbors. I walked in and shut the door. I didn’t see any movement but that’s good. Regular or monster-style, I do NOT like spiders in any way or form. I know that God created all animals and all animals are beautiful and so… blah blah blah. Screw that. Screw webs. Screw spiders. I have absolutely zero tolerance for their nasty legs and their big creepy eyes. I walked through to the kitchen in hopes that it might just be the webs to bug my mind. Ha. Bug. Anyways, I grabbed the kitchen broom and started to tear down as much of the disgusting web as I could. It was so thick and plentiful that my broom kept getting stuck, like I was trying to pull down ropes or vines.

                After yanking a few times on the strand which wrapped around my make shift web-remover, I remembered something about spiders that made me think twice about my actions: spiders build webs, then hide until something lands in their webs and send vibrations throughout it. It’s then that the spiders come out to see what they’ve caught for dinner. Give it to the curse to be scientifically correct. I kept yanking and saw something moving in the corner of my left eye. My pantry was opening and I wasn’t the one prying it open for peanut butter. It moved slowly, so I decided to turn my head in the same fashion. There they were, eight, black eyeballs staring right into mine. If it had been any closer we’d be kissing. It was about as big as my head and if you knew me at all, I have a pretty big head. It gave off a kind of squealing noise while retreating back into the pantry and the broom finally broke free from its bonds and since I was pulling on it full force I fell right on my back, swinging and yelling in fear. I had an idea. If I could manage to throw it into the trash can and put the lid on, maybe it wouldn’t bother me the rest of the night, hoping that there’s only one little devil. I mustered up my courage and with a strong yell I flung open the cabinet with broom in hand and stopped short. There wasn’t a spider, just a big hole in the wall where the spider easily escaped through. “That is SO not okay” were the only words to pass through my clenched teeth. I heard the squealing, ticking noise behind me and I turned, ready to swing, but it was too late.

                The spider, about two feet in size, was already in the air for its aerial assault. It landed pretty much on my face and was surprisingly strong for its size. I wrestled with it, screaming in fear. I could feel its hairy little legs trying to wrap around my face, it was simply the most horrifying sensation I have ever come into contact with. It gives me the chills just writing about it right now. It had me. There was no way it was going to be stopped from sinking its fangs into my face, which I can tell you, is the LAST thing I EVER want to happen to my face. I took a deep breath and just said the words in a pleading fashion “Please. Please don’t bite my face” and well, it didn’t. It actually stopped and stared into my eyes for a second which gave me the upper hand. I threw the little monster into the corner and, being quick on my feet, grabbed my can of air freshener with a lighter ready. If I had a real flame thrower, my apartment would be up in flames already.

                It squealed in fear at the sight of my stream of fire as I yelled that it was going to burn! It seemed more scared than I did. I took a second to think and realized that it didn’t bite my face when it had the chance, so why should I burn it? I mean in all reality, it probably thinks I came into its house and started crap with it! I let go of the can’s button and killed the flame and said plainly “Look, it seemed like you understood me earlier so I’m assuming you can understand me now. Don’t bite or attack me and I won’t hit you with a broom or cook you like a sausage. Alright?” It gave a kind of shrill purr in response. I sat on my couch and turned on the TV. On the other side of the couch in the corner of the room rested the little.. well.. big spider perched up in a web watching TV. “Let’s get one thing straight. We are NOT friends” I blurted out. This little monster still wasn't as bad as that lady with the "GREAT SCRATCH ON HER BRAND NEW COUCH". I guess it really isn't fair to judge a book by it's cover, even when the book's cover is disgusting beyond belief. I called him Crawly, that little freak.

Shawn Frite