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How can things so small freak me out so much? Creepy crawley bitey little buggers... I hate them. I think my mom freaking out at them always made me afraid too... and now it's too late, such negative connotations come with these arachnids.
I thought I was better. I could tolerate them, as long as they weren't within 5 feet of me. I'd just let them be there... whatever. But tonight, I realized, I don't want them anywhere near my sleeping place. I shudder just thinking of it .
It came out of nowhere... creepy little bugger. One of those ghostly white ones. I jumped back, but at least I didn't scream this time. It decided to be inconvenient, and crawl up the horizontal surface of some toilet paper I was using for poor man's tissues. I stared at it, and willed it to go to a place where I could crush it.
Finally, I got brave enough to tip over the roll of TP, and where did you head? Straight towards my keyboard, the last place I wanted you to be... That idea freaked me out more than anything (it's a long story involving one particularly kamakazi spider popping in and out of my keyboard. Ick.)
I moved hastily to block your path, and you ended up on the hard surface of my desk...
I trapped you under a convenient cup... but now what? You circled round and round the cup menacingly... I managed to slip a piece of paper under the cup, and then slide it all onto a notebook.
I felt proud that my first plan was to catch you, not kill you. A few years ago, I would have screamed and run out of the room, trying to get my brother to help me. Somewhere between him going away, and then me finally leaving the nest, I became self-sufficient in spider defence. I've even defended my roommates against them in the past.
I carried you into the living room, and then realized, there were no convenient windows to throw you out of... they all had screens.
And then I noticed that somewhere in the shuffle, I had managed to accidentally rip off three of your legs... probably when moving the cup around.
I knocked over the cup and waited.... you didn't move... you just sat there just inside the cup where I couldn't smash you. Clever bugger.
Finally, you moved, and I squashed you into the carpet. I was twitching by this point... and feeling like a horrible person. I threw away the peice of paper... it was "contaminated" to me.
I feel like such an idiot... "I'm sorry Whitey, you were just too scary to live." God. It makes me sound like a racist.
I gave you a name so I could properly imortalize you on a webpage... I hope wherever you are now, you're happy.
And I probably won't feel safe enough to go to sleep.
R.I.P. Whitey Arachnus Spidren
I have nightmares where spiders, twenty or thirty of them, are crawling in my sheets in my bed. I stand up and scream bloody murder. My parents used to come to my rescue, now all I can do is grab a pillow, shake it madly to rid of the 'spiders' that I think are real, and I sleep in the study lounge down the hall.
I'm glad you killed it once you saw his three missing legs. I hate spiders, but I love animals. I'm glad you ended his suffering. Bye Whitey.