The Spider Chronicles 2013

Since it would be really boring for me to say, "I killed a spider," I have been writing crazy little blurbs when I kill one.  Highly embellished, but sprinkled with truth, the following are the Spider Chronicles for 2013.  Enjoy.

September 12, 2013

I shut off the shower, grabbed a towel, and looked down to see a hairy spider come scuttling toward me. I asked him if he knew who I was. He said that he had heard legends about me, but legends were made to be disproved. 

So I killed him. I may be naked, but I'm not defenseless.

October 8, 2013

As I was frantically rushing around the kitchen this morning getting ready for work, a spider suddenly came moonwalking out from under the stove singing in his high-pitched voice, "Billy Jean is at my door. She's just a girl..." He froze mid-step. I looked at him. He looked at me and squeaked, "HEE-hay," while busting a move.

So I killed him. It was too early in the day to witness a spider grabbing his crotch.

October 12, 2013

Spiders come in 3 sizes in my new home: medium, large, and….Kumonga. (http://youtu.be/Mo0jNw9LFLU) I have only had to battle Kumonga once, a few months ago, and I hope to never have that displeasure ever again.

Late last night, after entering the bathroom and searching the perimeter, (as I always do now since the spider ninjas like to ambush me there) I spotted one of the large beasts on the wall. He wore a hooded black cape and only his glowing yellow eyes could be seen. 

Unlike the medium ones, who like to sing and dance, the large ones prefer to stare silently. I immediately went on the defensive and demanded to know what he wanted. In a soft, deadly voice he said, "Your liver. With some fava beans and a nice Bordeaux."

So I killed him. I have zero tolerance for a spider who can't even quote a movie line correctly.

October 28, 2013

I walked into the bathroom and noticed a piece of fuzz on the floor. Then I squinted intently and realized it was a miniature version of the spiders that are normally trying to ambush me. His eyes darted nervously to me and then back to the floor.

So I interrogated him, "Do you sing and dance?"
"No!" His voice was high-pitched, like fingers on a chalkboard.
"Do you quote movies?"
"No!"
"Well, what DO you do?" I was starting to get irritated.
"I tell limericks."
"Oh?"
"Oh yes!" he squeaked. "There once was a lady in the shower, whose…"

So I killed him. There's nothing worse than a dirty peeping spider.