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I came home after work tonight and did a whole variety of household tasks, including standing in the kitchen and washing up, emptying the bins, tidying etc. I then decided I ought to put the next lot of washing in the machine and the current lot in the dryer. That’s when I turned round to face the drier and noticed the evil manic bastard sat there. It’s maybe an inch across.

I’ll reiterate here for recent readers my arachnophobia. I can’t explain it, but you can put me in a room with a group of highly-intelligent, terminally enraged gorillas armed with uzis and pissed at our disrespect of mother nature and I’ll laugh and try and sort it out. Put me in a thousand foot square warehouse with a spider and ill be halfway up the wall near the door unable to touch the floor.

For you non-arachnophobes, you don’t understand. The most commonly used phrase is “They’re more scared of you than you are of them”. Want a bet? Apart from the fact that Gary Glitter standing in front of a noose with a four year old under each arm would be less scared, spiders can sense fear. THEY CAN.

Spiders run away from humans (probably due to the sheer size of their adversary and their ability to use a vacuum cleaner.) If you are arachnophobic, a spider will run at you. I immediately hurtled out of the kitchen, my heart playing a latino drum beat and leapt onto the sofa.

Mrs Moosehunter is not here as it’s university holiday at the mo and she’s nannying for some kids (imagine how they’re going to turn out!)

I thought in my panic: ‘Ring Mrs Moosehunter. She’ll know what to do.’ And then realised my phone was on the worktop in the kitchen. Arse.

Faced with lots of unpleasant alternatives, I inched open the kitchen door and scanned the floor. Shit! It had gone from where it was. Taking my life in my hands and with my heart in my throat I ran to the surface, picked up my phone and turned and there the bastard was between me and the exit.

I could compete in the olympic long jump. I ran and leapt, landing almost 6 feet inside our front room, turning and slamming the kitchen door. I then rang Mrs Moosehunter. Well, you can imagine it. What the hell could she do? She’s ten miles away looking after kids. Still she was sympathetic and it made me feel a bit better. Not better enough to stop my heart doing the Macarena though.

Morbid curiosity couldn’t stop me opening the kitchen door again and having a peek. It’d gone again. Boy do those things move fast. How can you get away from them? They can fit through cracks, walk upside down or up walls and move like shit off a stick! I closed the door, my curiosity assuaged, only to see it in the front room, watching me from beneath a rug. The damn thing had followed me!!! I grabbed my phone, some bourbon and my incontinence shorts and ran round the room, leaping from piece of furniture to piece of furniture, unwilling to touch the floor. I vaulted the sofa and landed on the stairs still accelerating. I am now in the back bedroom, writing this and breathing heavily. Every 20 seconds or so I turn and look at the crack under the door. It’s done it once, so why wouldn’t it do it again? Moreover, I’m pretty sure there’s an even bigger one in here, though I’ve never seen it. Only the cobwebs. It’s like a Vincent Price movie in here some times.

Mrs Moosehunter will be home in about a quarter of an hour and will sort it out. Of course, I will wait here until the coast is clear.

There is no reason, but they bring my heart to a stop. Spawn. Evil creatures.

Ah well, time to call it quits and look behind me.


(Incidentally, music for right now is a random selection, but currently is Cradle of Filth. I’m not a huge fan, but this particular track is quite good.)



Written by SJAT

December 20, 2009 at 1:11 pm

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