THE BIGGEST FRICKIN' SPIDER EVER

This spider is the size of a rotisserie chicken: that was my first thought. 

Back it up. I was walking down the hallway to my bedroom, when I made the mistake of looking up. A SPIDER stared back at me. But, this was no typical spider. This was a SPIDER so big that I think it might have had an undiagnosed thyroid condition. This was a SPIDER so big that it could have moonlighted as an ottoman. This was a SPIDER so big that I'm pretty sure it had grown up eating steak and babies.

I have no choice but to kill you: that was my second thought.

I want to go on record. I'm not normally bothered by bugs. With the exception of having seen the trailer for Arachnaphobia at a sensitive age, bugs have never been a phobia of mine. Eels, yes. Spiders, no. Also, I'm opposed to the death penalty and generally this does extend to insects. But, there was just something about this SPIDER. It was huge and it knew where I slept. It couldn't be allowed to live. But, how should I proceed?

I couldn't just smash it. It would leave a mark the size of Lake Michigan on the ceiling. Yes, I would have to use a tool of some sort. A magazine, a magazine would be perfect for sweeping it off the ceiling. Then, then I would have to crush it. It was the only way. But, what to crush it with? 

I searched through my piles of reading material. I didn't want to use a book I liked. I couldn't use a book that had some function or utility. So, I settled on the most entirely worthless book in my personal library- The Pocket Monologue Book For Women. This book consists of monologues written for the discerning actress who dreams of reciting speeches about scrunchies, menstrual cycles, and men who won't commit.

Scene of the Crime

I grabbed my Pottery Barn catalogue in one hand and the monologue book in the other. I jumped up and with a flicking gesture reminiscent of a tennis serve shot the SPIDER across the hall. I swear the thing caught air. It sailed like a furry frisby and landed with a thud. It turned and glared at me. Then, we danced. Oh, yes. We danced. Lunge to the left. Lunge to the right. "You shall not pass!" I cried as I plopped the pocket guide down on insect opponent. With a primal scream, I stepped on the pocket book. The sound that emanated was that of a giant chewing chicken bones. Then came the silence.

I gave SPIDER a burial at sea and flushed it down the toilet. For a moment, I felt calm. Then I remembered the lyrics from the well-known-arachnid-ditty:

The its bitsy spider

Climbed up the water spout

Now, the thing not only knows where I sleep, but also where I do other things as well…I sit and I wait. Till we meet again, old friend. Till we meet again.