My Killer Instinct, Revisited
A year and a day ago I wrote, "Cancer Made Me a Cold-Blooded Killer," exploring my most bizarre chemo side effect: losing my life-long bug phobia and becoming a shrewd-eyed bug killer. Overnight. Probably not a chemo side effect, sure, but that's the only thing I could attribute it to, given my sudden transformation from holding my skirt up while I shrieked from atop a chair to pummeling a wasp to death with a light-weight fly swatter.
At the time, I wondered if the change was temporary or permanent. Would my fear of all things with six and eight and one-hundred legs return? Or would I continue cackling evilly while I hunted down the latest misguided creature who stumbled into our house - the Wrong House?
The other day, a conspiracy of spiders provided me with the answer. I'm not sure what was going on - perhaps some arachnid sent out party invitations and accidentally put my address down as the location. Whatever the reason, it was Spider Day at the Lime Ridge corral.
It started when I heard Tilly mrrr-pping her predatory trill in the bathroom. I walked in to find her stalking a spider, her eyes big. It saw me and made a mad dash for safety, running under the litter box. Tilly pawed about the base of the box excitedly. In the past, I would have thought the get-away was a good sign and would have left the room for a few hours. But not now. I lifted the litter box to reveal the skulking spider and smashed him under my foot. Crestfallen, Tilly chirped a questioning note (she has an odd language) and she looked around for her moving toy. No luck; mom spoiled her fun again.
Later the same day, Lola spotted a spider in the studio. Whiskers and ears rotated forward, she pawed playfully as it tried to run away from her. Lola's not usually a spider hunter; this must have been a good one. But, again, mom swooped in (this time, with a tissue) and the game ended prematurely.
Just an hour later, I sat on my bed sorting the contents of my handbag when another spider-the third of the day!- dropped down from the ceiling. It dangled in front of my face, screeching, "BOO!" in spider-language. Well, at least, I assume it did.
Historically, few things freak me out more than bugs jumping on me or spiders dangling over me, but this time, I did not flatten my body and crawl to the other side of the bed, then make a break for the door. Instead, I casually leaned backward, grabbed a cardboard CD mailer, and flung it like a Frisbee at the spider-silk. The cardboard mailer cut the line and carried the spider five feet away, where he landed on the floor. He took a split second to come to his senses and then began scurrying away as fast as his eight legs could carry him. Only I was close behind, laughing maniacally until my foot landed squarely-and satisfyingly-on his body.
So: there you have it. If you're a bug, arachnid, or tiny flying beast, expect no mercy in this house. No one is going to carry you to the door on a newspaper or turn a blind eye while you wiggle out of sight. This is the House of Death, and things are unlikely to change.
These boots are made for stomping
And that's just what they'll do
One of these days these boots are gonna
Stomp all over YOU!
Start stomping!
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Hilarious!
I still have a crawly icky feeling when I see a spider scoopin' out our pad! My solution is to warn it....I do this outloud!
"Hey there spider, you have about an hour to skidaddle before my fella gets homes and kills ya!"
Then I leave the room. If I stay in the room, I just can't focus on anything but the spider.
Usually the spider decides to go hang out somewhere else...if not...its dead meat.
:) and I don't feel a bit bad about this at all!!!!
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