Attack of the Killer Brown Spider
/Ten minutes ago...sitting at my desk, laptop in front of me as I transcribe an interview from last week. I'm staring at the screen--not looking down, up, left, or right, but staring straight at the screen, watching the words as they appear, when out of freaking nowhere this brown spider is suddenly on my screen.
Naturally, I hit the ceiling. It's my innate reaction to any unexpected bug, be it bee, ant, spider, or gnat.
The question in my mind was, Where the hell did this thing come from?" It's not like I watched it crawl across the screen. It was just BOOM!, there. Obviously, it is some mutant spider with superpowers, sent here to torture me by the ghost of the Daddy Longlegs I knocked off last week in our bathroom.
The spider is small, only about 1 inch long, and is sitting in the middle of my screen, reading about Norwegian Elkhounds. I look around. Never a hard soled shoe in sight when you need one. I race downstairs for a paper towel (its body looked thick and gushy so no way was I willing to use a tissue or toilet paper)and run back up, sure the spider will have hidden itself.
But no, it's still there. Maybe my article on Elkhounds is really good.
I don't want to squash it on my screen so I flutter the paper towel at it. The spider races (fast!) down the screen and holes up in one of the little side port holes where stuff plugs into my computer.
I inwardly moan. No way I'm sticking a finger in there to chase him out. Instead, I pick up the laptop and shake it like an Etch-A-Sketch. The spider drops to the desk, crouched, wary. I reach for it with the paper towel and it takes off.
BAM! I just miss it as it runs past the calculator. WHAM! I send pencils flying but see the spider, alive and well, racing for the desk corner. Noooooo! If it reaches the carpet I'll never get it.
The spider makes a crucial error and stops running and tries to hide. Under a log home magazine. Ha ha! I slam my fist on top of the magazine, then slowly peel it back to look.
He's mangled, but not squished enough to suit me. The last thing I need is a ticked off limping spider coming after me. So I pick up the magazine and slam it down again.
And send the spider's body flying God knows where.
That's right. I can't find it. There are only so many places it could be. I've searched the desk, floor, printer, and my hair. Nothing. So now, even though I KNOW I killed him, I keep feeling something crawling on my skin and I'm jerking and starting every few seconds, brushing imaginary spiders off me.
I just hope I killed the spider before it got a good look at me. I shudder to think about what it may send after me for its revenge.
Naturally, I hit the ceiling. It's my innate reaction to any unexpected bug, be it bee, ant, spider, or gnat.
The question in my mind was, Where the hell did this thing come from?" It's not like I watched it crawl across the screen. It was just BOOM!, there. Obviously, it is some mutant spider with superpowers, sent here to torture me by the ghost of the Daddy Longlegs I knocked off last week in our bathroom.
The spider is small, only about 1 inch long, and is sitting in the middle of my screen, reading about Norwegian Elkhounds. I look around. Never a hard soled shoe in sight when you need one. I race downstairs for a paper towel (its body looked thick and gushy so no way was I willing to use a tissue or toilet paper)and run back up, sure the spider will have hidden itself.
But no, it's still there. Maybe my article on Elkhounds is really good.
I don't want to squash it on my screen so I flutter the paper towel at it. The spider races (fast!) down the screen and holes up in one of the little side port holes where stuff plugs into my computer.
I inwardly moan. No way I'm sticking a finger in there to chase him out. Instead, I pick up the laptop and shake it like an Etch-A-Sketch. The spider drops to the desk, crouched, wary. I reach for it with the paper towel and it takes off.
BAM! I just miss it as it runs past the calculator. WHAM! I send pencils flying but see the spider, alive and well, racing for the desk corner. Noooooo! If it reaches the carpet I'll never get it.
The spider makes a crucial error and stops running and tries to hide. Under a log home magazine. Ha ha! I slam my fist on top of the magazine, then slowly peel it back to look.
He's mangled, but not squished enough to suit me. The last thing I need is a ticked off limping spider coming after me. So I pick up the magazine and slam it down again.
And send the spider's body flying God knows where.
That's right. I can't find it. There are only so many places it could be. I've searched the desk, floor, printer, and my hair. Nothing. So now, even though I KNOW I killed him, I keep feeling something crawling on my skin and I'm jerking and starting every few seconds, brushing imaginary spiders off me.
I just hope I killed the spider before it got a good look at me. I shudder to think about what it may send after me for its revenge.
