S.J.A. Turney's Books & More

Reviews, news and inside the world of books.

A Phobia’s A Terrible Thing

with 4 comments

It’s late. I’m tired. I’ve had a few drinks (for which I’m all-too well known!) Mrs Moosehunter is in bed and I shall join her in a few. So much for ‘don’t know how often I’ll update this’.

I went round the house to close the windows and lock the doors before bed. Natural routine, being the safety-conscious individual I am. Mrs Moosehunter is all-but-asleep on the sofa. All is well with the world. I step into the kitchen and switch the light on. I mosey across (See America: I know the word mosey…) and lock the back door and shut the kitchen window.

I’m stepping back across the kitchen floor and my world goes into a spin.

I have only one word for you: ARACHNOPHOBIA!!!!!!

Those of you who have it (and I mean properly have it, not like “I’m a bit spooked by heavy rainfall”) will understand the rest.

My heart actually stops beating for precious moments and my blood stagnates. It feels like someone has poured molten lead into my brain. I fight the urge to fill my trousers (all subconsciously – I don’t fill my trousers in general). Time slips away…

And then my heart beats again.

I’m alive.

And absolutely terrified!

There follows a ‘running from the room’ episode that would have earned Neve Campbell or Jamie Lee Curtis a lifetime award. I charge through the living room past the almost-slumbering joy of my life, saying things like “spider”, “BIG Spider” and “uhng!” I can’t scream. Proper terror (the sort that involves knife-wielding murderers or spilling a big guy’s drink down his new shirt) doesn’t let you scream. You have a sort of breathless, hollow, croaky moan.

She, of course, is now awake.

As I stand on the stairs, shivering and moaning, she fetches the ‘spider mug’.

Yes, we have a ‘spider mug’.

I am overjoyed afterwards to hear that it was too big for the mug and she may have broken one of its legs. She manages to manhandle/fireman’s lift/courier service the eight legged spawn of Satan out of the house and lock the front door.

I feel I need to justify something here.

It’s been almost an hour and my heart’s still moving faster than the dream of Donald Campbell (Look it up on the net – that’s what it’s for, not porn.) I’m just starting to calm down.

You who aren’t arachnophobic will not understand. It’s irrational and we know it. We know they’re good for the environment and that without them there’d be so many flies we wouldn’t be able to watch big brother or any other god-awful piece of crap (don’t get me started on this). But we’re terrified. We don’t know why, and we don’t like it. That doesn’t alter the fact.

If I came home and found three enraged polar bears, a sabre toothed tiger and Hannibal the cannibal, I’d be scared. But I’d deal with it. This is different.

If, by now, you’re thinking: “Jeez, if I met a hand-sized arachno-terminator and had almost stood on it… the guy’s got a right to be terrified” good on you. If the word that leaps to mind is anything like ‘pansy’, screw you. I’ll find out what YOU’RE scared of and come round and taunt you with it. Spoons? Bulgarian Coffee Vendors? Banana Shaped Birthmarks? I’ll get you. If anyone actually bothers reading my drivel, mail me and tell me of any weird phobias you have. I won’t hunt you down with them.


Unless it’s REALLY funny!

Anyway, one more thing before I sign off: I meant to put this in earlier, but forgot. Music of the day. I’m going to keep a track of the music I’m into as these blogs/rants/drivels go by. Today it was Reroute To Remain by In Flames during earlier writing, and Pantera at other times. I’m a bit of a Rock/Goth/Metal/Industrial guy. Take the piss. Go on. Bet you remember Billie Jo Spears’ ‘Blanket on the Ground’.





Written by SJAT

August 20, 2009 at 11:11 am

4 Responses

Subscribe to comments with RSS.

  1. Dear Mr. Turney,
    You are very lucky, indeed, to have Mrs. Turney. I also am an arachnophobe. I must get the spelling correct because I typed poorly the last time I responded to your brief biography (Beverly Hillbillys vs Hillbillies and Clampets vs Clampetts. Oh, that is a load off the mind. OH NO! You said something about OCD, and I thought I was just ADD! See? I don’t a therapist, just log onto THIS site ).
    You were abousoutley correct in your desire to scream. A large, vicious, ugly, hairy spider with TEETH ( like in Holy Grail?) will scare the snot out of anyone THAT HAS SENSE, as I can see at least WE do.
    My barn holds terrible secrets in dark corners. I once (have you had a drink?) reached for the turd fork, and within my grip, I squeezed the life (and guts) out of a HUGE Wolf Spider! With my bare hand! My legs were frozen or I would have run. I screamed in agony as my hand burned (it didn’t really, but I was certain it did). I opened my eyes and saw actual internal spider organs on my hand. This sucker must’ve truely been huge.
    I was silent while I determined just WHAT it was (Intestines. I’m interested in veterinary, you know?) and then reality hit, I screamed again.
    Eventually, my whits crept back and, after dragging my now-spoiled hand across the gates, hitching post, the ground, the dog,.. I hosed it down, then poored iodine on it (at work they asked why my hand was red. I told them something about a huge and hairy spider and held back the panic which was beginning anew, and they thought it must’ve bit me and was now inflamed).
    My senses have not yet healed from that gory event, and never shall. I wouldn’t want for you or any of your nice readers to suffer the same fate and become damaged-goods, so please continue with your efforts to keep the public informed on the actual necessity of this so-called phobia.
    I go back to work tomorrow, so I won’t have time to bother y’all (now THERE’S AN AMERICANISM) as much. Grazie and keep up the good work. And I’m sure you’re verrry busy yourself on MM2.
    Jules (..in Kentucky. In Cailfornia we didn’t have many HUGE spiders. Or ticks. Or big old green bugs that look like tree limbs…)



    January 7, 2010 at 11:39 pm

    • Oh ick. Oh… just ick. Ick, ick, ick! But I have come out of this with a smile from the expression ‘turd fork’.



      January 8, 2010 at 10:30 am

  2. I am reminded of an episode from my granddaughter’s toilet training. (I am saving this for when she is 15 so I can embarrass her in front of boy friends (if I am still alive and not demented). She was making good progress, and then had a terrible setback. Mommy finally figured out the problem. AE (my granddaughter) was attending pre-school. One day she saw Mommy flush a large spider down the toilet. Her favorite song at pre-school was

    The itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout.
    Down came the rain, and washed the spider out.
    Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain,
    and the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.

    After Mommy explained that a toilet was not exactly a “water spout” and that spider’s once flushed did not come crawling back up the “toilet spout,” toilet training proceeded apace.

    In fact a couple of years later, one day as I was over for dinner, I heard a call from the bathroom:

    “There’s a big spider in the bathroom.”
    Mommy: “Do you want me to come help you.”
    Sound of a flush. Then a little voice peeping out, “No. I took care of it.” That was when we knew she was all grown up.



    November 11, 2011 at 1:48 am

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: