Spiders from Hell

Of all of the Flying Spaghetti Monster’s creations, there is one that looms as the most horrifying, vile and evil. It haunts humanity from the shadows; ready to strike at the first moment we lower our guard. I’m sure that every single person who reads this immediately recognizes that I am, of course, talking about spiders.

Home-alone-gif.gifWhat else could I be talking about? With eight unholy legs that propel its bulbous and unsightly frame around, it can hide anywhere. There is likely one watching you this very second. With a minimum of eight eyes set in its hateful head like malignant tumors, they stare into your soul, hating you and everything you stand for. Fetid drool drips from mandibles fitted with insidious pinchers, built for puncturing the flesh of unwary humans.

And the way they eat?! Gah, unnatural! As a teenager, I had a friend who took it upon herself to feed the spiders on her acreage. Like the painfully awkward, love-struck, country bumpkin that I was, I would totter along beside her as she collected grasshoppers and ants. When her hands were full, she would find a web and toss some poor insect into the sticky trap. I imagine that she is a serial killer now.

Perched into a sprinting position should I find it necessary to flee. I would watch the insect struggle to escape. There would always be this terrible moment where I could see the web vibrating and, like the calm before the storm, I would have the time to wonder if perhaps the owner of the web was absent.

Suddenly, like a dread nightmare from the abyss, the spider would appear, clambering quickly across the web. It would bite its victim and quickly weave a webbing death shroud for the paralyzed creature. After providing me with nightmares for the at least next month, the spider would mark me with a withering look and withdraw from view.

Now, as a mature and reliable adult, if I happen to come across a spider, I can feel an electric shock course through my body. My skin itches and I feel like ants are crawling all over my body. My palms sweat and I bite my lip in trepidation. I want to run but I know if I do, the spider will chase me. Like a western showdown, the spider and I eye each other up, waiting for the other to make a move.

Once the spider that knows I’m too scared to move, he scuttles away, chuckling like spiders do and throwing racist comments back at me over his shoulder as he departs. I don’t feel emasculated by this behaviour because I survived the encounter and that’s all that matters.

Their prey trapped, the pack of spiders prepares to feast…

I can’t even flush a spider down a drain because some small part of me knows that the spider will remember my face. It will survive the torrent of water and will one day drag itself, sopping wet, from the drain to start a quest of vengeance against me. It will kill everyone I have ever loved before finally coming for me in the dead of night to finish the job.

There is no escaping spiders. Even hiking through a forest can be a living hell for me thanks to the spiders that drape their web across the paths that I like to frequent. One moment, I am blissfully enjoying a scenic moment of peace. The next, I am clawing at my face in a panic, going through full body convulsions as I try to get the web off of my face.

Don’t bother telling me that spiders are good for controlling the insect population. I don’t believe that for a second, it’s just spider propaganda. Spiders are unequivocally horrible monsters with no regard for humans as the top tier of the hierarchy of the planet. Do you want a spider fact? A spider will kill two out of every three human beings on this planet. Truth.

So please, if you see a spider, squish it. Make sure it is dead when you do, else it will rise up, like the phoenix from the ashes, and pursue you to the end of your days.

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