Eight-legged freaks
My house and garden are riddled, RIDDLED, I tell you, with creepy crawlies.
I had to mow the lawn again the other day. It's been raining like the next great flood is approaching for the last month so everything was still damp. There were some boxes on the sidewalk by the garage that I'd been meaning to move to the rubbish. Underneath them were translucent orange slugs, (seriously, translucent orange slugs the size of thumbs,) about 15 snails and a few beetle things. Pleh. As I paced the lawn with my mower I imagined my feet crushing hundreds of little escargot and their translucent orange friends. Oh, the carnage!
Much worse than all my slimy little friends outside, however, are all of the spiders that have been making their way through every little crack in my house. Small ones are the size of my pinky nail. Big ones are the size of a silver dollar, assuming their legs are curled up under them. They're all vaguely hairy. And they're everywhere.
Killed one by the door. Killed two in the bathroom. Killed one in the kitchen. Killed two in my dining room/study. And just when I thought enough blood had been shed for the day and we'd reached a detente, I went to my room and saw TWO MORE little bastards climbing on my wall. DAMN YOU, SPIDERS. (Said shaking fists in the air, with a bit of reverb to my angry cries.)
I hate spiders. I mean really hate spiders. A lot. We're not talking fear here, we're talking white-hot fiery hate. Seeing spiders makes my skin crawl. I become paranoid that they're crawling on my legs, my neck, my arms, my face...I slap myself instinctively to kill these imaginary pests. I can drive myself to a foaming frenzy imagining them.
Eight in one house in one day is TOO MUCH.
And of course you can't tell anyone you've been killing spiders without someone telling you it's bad luck or you're hurting the environment or some other ridiculous pro-spider crap. Bollocks, I say. Kill them. Kill them all.
I'm buying some Raid tomorrow. You're going down, you eight-legged freaks.
I had to mow the lawn again the other day. It's been raining like the next great flood is approaching for the last month so everything was still damp. There were some boxes on the sidewalk by the garage that I'd been meaning to move to the rubbish. Underneath them were translucent orange slugs, (seriously, translucent orange slugs the size of thumbs,) about 15 snails and a few beetle things. Pleh. As I paced the lawn with my mower I imagined my feet crushing hundreds of little escargot and their translucent orange friends. Oh, the carnage!
Much worse than all my slimy little friends outside, however, are all of the spiders that have been making their way through every little crack in my house. Small ones are the size of my pinky nail. Big ones are the size of a silver dollar, assuming their legs are curled up under them. They're all vaguely hairy. And they're everywhere.
Killed one by the door. Killed two in the bathroom. Killed one in the kitchen. Killed two in my dining room/study. And just when I thought enough blood had been shed for the day and we'd reached a detente, I went to my room and saw TWO MORE little bastards climbing on my wall. DAMN YOU, SPIDERS. (Said shaking fists in the air, with a bit of reverb to my angry cries.)
I hate spiders. I mean really hate spiders. A lot. We're not talking fear here, we're talking white-hot fiery hate. Seeing spiders makes my skin crawl. I become paranoid that they're crawling on my legs, my neck, my arms, my face...I slap myself instinctively to kill these imaginary pests. I can drive myself to a foaming frenzy imagining them.
Eight in one house in one day is TOO MUCH.
And of course you can't tell anyone you've been killing spiders without someone telling you it's bad luck or you're hurting the environment or some other ridiculous pro-spider crap. Bollocks, I say. Kill them. Kill them all.
I'm buying some Raid tomorrow. You're going down, you eight-legged freaks.
Comments
You're only doing the same thing those spiders would do if they had the chance.
You know what I hate is the garden spiders. I got a spider drunk once.
I spilled my wine all over the floor, some went on the floor molding behind a lamp, where a spider was. As I sat there, trying to decided what to do, the spider went over to a droplet and sucked it down. It found another close by and sucked that down.
I continued to watch, thinking maybe it would die, but no, it stumbled (really) back on it's web, hung on by two legs, trying to get the other six on the web and gave up. Every once in a while it would twitch it's legs, but they found no purchase.
I left it alone.
Love,
RPSCS
(The Ridiculous Pro-Spider Crap Society)
Glad to hear you all aren't spider fans, either. Please don't let this deter you from your visit, though. In two weeks they'll all be dead.