James Burleigh
Well-known member
Today in a family e-mail thread my sister, who has a phobia about spiders, mentioned something about the little *******s, and as a result we started a thread about who kills the spiders in our various households. In my house it's, well, here's what I shared:
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Fang kills the spiders in our house. Only Fang and always Fang. All the kids and I call her when we see a spider. That is, she kills them when she's not liberating them out to the backyard. She talks to them like they're some character in a Disney film:
"You silly little nut! Just look at you [picture hands on hips and a feigned stern look]. What were you thinking crawling across my pillow like that? You scared Jimmy half to death! Come on, you knucklehead. Let's get you reunited with your family in the back yard...."
And I'm standing there looking fearful and incredulous ("Family? There are more of them?"--I'm like Dr. Alan Grant in Jurassic Park when he says, "Raptors? You have raptors?").
I stand back at least 10 feet as Fang moves in, my body tense like a spring, ready to leap in any direction in case the spider lunges. And I think how naïve Fang is and about how the spider kingdom has duped her.
Every time I try to kill a spider myself it's a disaster. I see them crawling across our white cottage-cheese ceiling in the bedroom, or wedged into the crack between the wall and the ceiling, and I cringe and start to call Fang, who is sitting in the living room downstairs reading a book. But sometimes I tell myself to man up and kill it myself.
So I get about a half a roll of toilet paper wadded up in my hand, wet it to give it some bulk, and then stride out to confront the little *******, mano-a-mano.
I get a chair positioned under the spider, never taking my eyes off it, and always being mindful of my escape route. I then mount the chair, get the toilet paper balled up just right, and then in a lightening strike smash the enemy as hard as I can while letting out a guttural marshal yell that sounds something like "Eeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwww!"
That's when I scream and throw up my arms and jump off the chair, with the toilet paper flying off in one direction and the spider in the other--usually right at me. In all my 2 or 3 attempts to man up and kill a spider myself, it has never been killed with the first strike. Ever.
Right about that point, Fang glances up the stairs from her book to see me flying out of the bedroom with a wild look on my face, because I'm sure there's a REALLY pissed-off spider now crawling after me with the speed of a dachshund.
Fang takes a deep breath and puts her book down, then marches upstairs. She's seen it all before and knows instantly what's afoot. She enters the bedroom with the quiet confidence of a SWAT team professional, or of Cinderella about to meet with her mouse friends. In any event, she's very brave you know, given that there's an angry arachnid somewhere in there, no doubt out for human blood.
I stop and listen for the terrible sounds of battle, but instead I hear, "My goodness gracious! Just look at you, you little monkey head. Oh, you poor baby, you can hardly move. You're lucky Jimmy didn't kill you after nearly scaring him to death! Come on. Let's get you into the back yard with your friends."
"Friends...?" And I stand back 10 feet on the landing as Fang walks past me with a small piece of toilet paper carrying the silly little monkey head out to the backyard to play with his friends.
Sigh....
Jb
Bonus material: Spider Scene from Annie Hall
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Fang kills the spiders in our house. Only Fang and always Fang. All the kids and I call her when we see a spider. That is, she kills them when she's not liberating them out to the backyard. She talks to them like they're some character in a Disney film:
"You silly little nut! Just look at you [picture hands on hips and a feigned stern look]. What were you thinking crawling across my pillow like that? You scared Jimmy half to death! Come on, you knucklehead. Let's get you reunited with your family in the back yard...."
And I'm standing there looking fearful and incredulous ("Family? There are more of them?"--I'm like Dr. Alan Grant in Jurassic Park when he says, "Raptors? You have raptors?").
I stand back at least 10 feet as Fang moves in, my body tense like a spring, ready to leap in any direction in case the spider lunges. And I think how naïve Fang is and about how the spider kingdom has duped her.
Every time I try to kill a spider myself it's a disaster. I see them crawling across our white cottage-cheese ceiling in the bedroom, or wedged into the crack between the wall and the ceiling, and I cringe and start to call Fang, who is sitting in the living room downstairs reading a book. But sometimes I tell myself to man up and kill it myself.
So I get about a half a roll of toilet paper wadded up in my hand, wet it to give it some bulk, and then stride out to confront the little *******, mano-a-mano.
I get a chair positioned under the spider, never taking my eyes off it, and always being mindful of my escape route. I then mount the chair, get the toilet paper balled up just right, and then in a lightening strike smash the enemy as hard as I can while letting out a guttural marshal yell that sounds something like "Eeeeeeeeewwwwwwwwww!"
That's when I scream and throw up my arms and jump off the chair, with the toilet paper flying off in one direction and the spider in the other--usually right at me. In all my 2 or 3 attempts to man up and kill a spider myself, it has never been killed with the first strike. Ever.
Right about that point, Fang glances up the stairs from her book to see me flying out of the bedroom with a wild look on my face, because I'm sure there's a REALLY pissed-off spider now crawling after me with the speed of a dachshund.
Fang takes a deep breath and puts her book down, then marches upstairs. She's seen it all before and knows instantly what's afoot. She enters the bedroom with the quiet confidence of a SWAT team professional, or of Cinderella about to meet with her mouse friends. In any event, she's very brave you know, given that there's an angry arachnid somewhere in there, no doubt out for human blood.
I stop and listen for the terrible sounds of battle, but instead I hear, "My goodness gracious! Just look at you, you little monkey head. Oh, you poor baby, you can hardly move. You're lucky Jimmy didn't kill you after nearly scaring him to death! Come on. Let's get you into the back yard with your friends."
"Friends...?" And I stand back 10 feet on the landing as Fang walks past me with a small piece of toilet paper carrying the silly little monkey head out to the backyard to play with his friends.
Sigh....
Jb
Bonus material: Spider Scene from Annie Hall
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