| I—hate—spiders. I know, I know, they’re one of God’s amazing creatures. Well, one word: "whattheheckever!" I think they were spawned as one of the results of sin. They have to be absolutely the most hideous things on our planet. I mean, heck, they are made for terror. They crawl around with their bony legs (and what’s up with that?! An exoskeleton? I don’t get it. Bone’s with hair on them!? It’s like they’re built with spiky armor or something). They’ve got all those eyes! It’s like you can’t even hide from them—they can see everywhere! And, of course, they have the fangs. Ehehehehehehewwwwww *shivering*. The weirdest thing though: they can hang from the ceiling from their butt! That’s right—they can suspend in mid air with all of those legs freed up for combat. I—hate—spiders! Man, I hate spiders!
When I was a little boy, my dad was a contractor. We lived in a house that was constantly under construction. The bedroom that my brother and I stayed in for a while was certainly a work in progress, but we liked it; it seemed sort of fun to be in—at least at first. I had just finished helping my dad put in the insulation for the bedroom walls, so it was nice and cozy in there. But what we didn’t think about was how susceptible the room still was to small creatures—namely, spiders. One day we woke up and realized that something was—well—different. Ok, this is weird, and you might think about stopping your reading right here…still here? Good! This is crazy. My brother came out of the bathroom looking like he had seen a ghost. He simply never got like this, so I hounded him for an explanation. He started to stutter out, "s-somethin’s wrong…uumm…with…" I could see him scratching right near the grapes of his fruit of the loom underwear. I realized that I had been picking grapes all morning too, but I never thought—I mean—I didn’t want to start examining things. It was just an itch, and I was only six. My brother has never been shy, so he was glad to oblige when I asked to see what he was talking about. I won’t be too descriptive here, but let’s just say that I had accidentally seen my dad in the bathroom a couple of times, and I thought that maybe they had done some kind of emergency transplant overnight or something—pretty impressive. I was quickly prompted to check myself out. As I looked down, I noticed that my He-man underwear no longer said "He-man". They now said "H E- M A N"! Our unspeakables were swollen up by some kind of bite or rash or something. Now, my brother wasn’t about to tell or show anyone what we had discovered. But me? I thought, "Holy cow! Nobody’ll believe this. I gotta show somebody!" I ran into the living room holding my…uummm…He-man logo, and showed my mother why. The funny thing is that she knew almost immediately that Rodney was hiding something. But, of course, he denied any problems. That was when I yelled out, "Huh-uh! Yours is even worse than mine!" Of course that prompted him to later hold me down and spit in my mouth. The conclusion of the matter: spider bites. I guess it’s a bitter-sweet thing. I was kind of happy to be able to give my dad and brother a run for their money, but still, a spider bite to the mid section isn’t a good thing. Later on the itching became burning, and the burning became pain. I didn’t even want to go to the bathroom. Oh, and just a side note: these were definitely FEMALE spiders. I wouldn’t want anybody to get the wrong idea. This was when I first knew that I hate spiders. That hate would soon turn into a dreadful phobia. As I grew up, every time I even thought I saw a spider, I would just freeze. And when I would actually see one, I would stop breathing, and blinking and any other involuntary act until I could regain some composure. This phobia wouldn’t fade with time either. There were times when I would hear someone’s story about their encounter with a spider, and it would just make me shiver. And there had been a few times that I ran into spider webs (which is almost as bad because then you just wonder, "Oh no, where’s the spider? He’s on me! He’s on me! I know it!"), but I never had to endure a real close encounter (other than the incident I formerly mentioned, but I never made it an intention to go around telling people that I had been bitten downstairs by a spider). But I knew that eventually it would come, and sure enough, it did. A couple of years ago I was living in a little apartment back in the woods. It was more like a basement though. It was on a hill; so the front side of the apartment was below ground while the back side was on the ground level. As you walk in, you’re facing the sliding glass door that leads out to the back patio. This was a bad thing because sometimes at night I would walk in and scare the crap out of myself by my own reflection. Other than that—and the musky…basementy smell—it was a good place to be. Heck, I was only about a minute away from work. One dreadful night, I walked into the apartment expecting to see my reflection, and I did; but I didn’t expect what I saw next. I walked in and rounded the corner to the left of the door, and as I turned to corner I glanced out the back door. I almost jumped out of my skin! I jumped back and stuck right to the wall like paint. I was probably whiter than the paint on the wall too. There it was: Argiope Aurantia is it’s given name, but I just called it "youhideoussickdisgustingdemon!" Everyone says that these are beautiful creatures, and they’re harmless. Well, those are the same people that are going to get zapped after believing the aliens when they come saying, "we come in peace." Don’t worry, I paid the "beautiful creature" respect by having a moment of silence. Of course, this was only because I couldn’t breath! The thing was HUGE! After I…um…paid my respect, I quickly sprung into action. I could tell that the enemy was planning his attack; so I wasted no time. I searched for my weapon of choice. A bazooka? No. A machine gun? No. A plunger? Oh yeah. It wasn’t firepower, but it was all I needed to go along with my cat-like reflexes, past military training, and that one summer in the cub scouts. It was a long and gruesome battle. The thing must have been about five, no…seven feet tall! I was tired and weary from battle, but I plunged the guts right out of the thing! Ok, it wasn’t really seven feet tall. It was more like…um…three feet….ok, ok, ok…it was about the size of my palm. But that’s pretty darn big and scary! Oh, and I guess have to admit that it sort of had a handicap. It was in between the screen and the glass doors, so it didn’t have as much of a chance to fight back. That was all the motivation I needed. I stood as far back as I possibly could. Reaching out with one arm (after hyperventilating for a few minutes), I did it: I treated it like a clogged up toilet. I plunged it to death! I had won the battle, but the bad thing was that the dead spider was stuck in between the two doors with it’s guts all over the glass; so I had to look at it every single day until I moved out of the apartment. Eeewwwwhhh—that still gives me nightmares. I realized that this was a victorious battle, but the war had only begun. This would be a life-long war between two species fighting for dominion on this planet. I knew that as long as I had a big heart and a big—shoe, I would always have the upper hand—or foot that is. One night (notice how they always attack under the cover of darkness) shortly after my first real battle, while enjoying some leisure time at my parents’ house, I notice a very large figure of a spider moving near the doorway. This thing looked a foot tall—quite literally! I started to panic, hoping that it was just another nightmare from the previous battle. It didn’t take long until I knew that this was no dream. It seemed like I could feel my heart beat with every step the creature took. I kept beating harder and harder—and harder. But then I concluded that I wasn’t going to let that thing have his way with me in the darkness of night. If I had to face him, He would have to show himself. I quickly jumped up and turned on the light. I let out a sigh of relief. I realized that the spider looked so darn big because of the shadow projected from the light of the television. This was a bitter sweet thing because I still had to endure the task of getting rid of it. Everyone was asleep, so I had to be quiet about it as well. It wasn’t big, but it was fast. I knew that I had to be in stealth mode. I grabbed one of my sandals, but then thought, "you never know", so I grabbed the other one too. I darted behind the recliner. Then, I zipped behind another chair. I was in perfect firing position. But, I had to wait. With all those eyes, It’s virtually impossible to engage a sneak attack. I waited and waited. Every second seemed like an eternity. Then, everything became silent. It was like the calm before the storm. No sound at all—just a heartbeat. All of the sudden—"SSSHHHHHAAAAAABOOOOOMMMMMMMM!" It was a direct hit. But something was wrong. The enemy had a backup plan. It was like—like something out of a science fiction horror film. As my size eleven and a half sandal eliminated the threat, hundreds, literally, hundreds of teeny, tiny spiders came swarming out of the dead carcass. I swear—I almost fainted! I squealed like a little girl. But I was still in combat move with a weapon in each arm, so I was determined to defeat this small army. I was crawling backwards laying down sandals like a machine gun, "tatatatatatatatatatatatatatatataP". There were so many though! They were scattering! I could see their plan starting to unfold. They were going to surround me and move in for the kill; but I wasn’t going to the prey. I was the B-52 Bomber flying overhead. "You shall feel my earth-shattering fury! Hahahahahahahahahaha!!!", I said like a mad man. Finally, after a few grueling days of battle (it actually probably lasted about twenty seconds or so), it was over. The army was defeated. I had come to terms with the fact that they strike at night—when you are completely off guard. They blind-side you. They stab you in the back. So, the timing of the next encounter didn’t surprise me at all. Don’t get me wrong I was scared to death, but not surprised. A couple of months ago I was at home and stepped in for a nice, cool, refreshing, shower on a hot evening. It had been a long day, and I was really enjoying myself. I was singing and just a scrub-a-dub-dubbin’ away. Suddenly, I felt like I was taking a shower at the south pole because I was shivering so much. No, the water wasn’t that cold—My blood was! As I looked down after rinsing out my hair, I almost jumped right up the spout! It was a fairly large brown recluse right at my feet. At first, I was scared. I had nowhere to go. This time he had me cornered. But, then I realized that either he was just as scared as I was or—it was dead. I thought, "if it’s alive, then…I’m dead. If it’s dead, then…oh, no way…I didn’t…" Luckily, it was the latter; however, I realized that, in my blissfulness, I had stepped on the darn thing—with my bare foot. *shivering now* whew. I quickly jumped out of the shower. Then, naked and wet, I searched for something to aid in the creature’s disposal. I remember thinking, "I’ve got to do this quick. That thing could come back to life any minute!" I rolled up some toilet paper and wrapped my hand in a trash bag. It was like there had been some kind of nuclear disaster. I might as well have had one of those yellow suits. Actually, I wouldn’t have turned it down. The spider went down the drain, and I completely disinfected my shower. The most recent event occurred last week (this is what prompted me to write this). I have a really old house (that’ll be another story down the road). Seriously, the thing was built in 1900. At some point in the early 80s the previous owner had had a heat and air unit installed. It’s given me some trouble, but It has worked for the most part. Well, I’ve known for a while that the unit would have to be replaced soon; it’s just old. But I was hoping to get just one more summer out of it in the big old house. My hope failed me. It runs, but now it just blows warm air. I know what you’re thinking: "What the heck does this have to do with spiders?" While at home one night last week, I spent the evening in one of the bedrooms playing guitar and recording and writing and what-have-you. It was hot as a furnace upstairs in the old house. So, I had the windows open with a fan blowing hoping to cool things down a little. It was getting late, and I had sung and played to my heart’s content; so I figured it was time for some shut-eye. Ah, sleep—I love sleep. But this night’s sleep would be stolen away by the visions of what I saw as I started to close the window. As I stooped over to close the window, I caught a glimpse of the flickering street light reflecting off of a spider’s web spun right in the center of the window. Remember what I said earlier? I knew immediately that the awful thing was close by—hiding, waiting, watching—planning his attack. I looked around the window and, sure enough, I was face to face with my enemy. Startled, I jumped back, tripped over a chair, and landed on my butt right on the floor—never once taking my eyes off of that spider. I’ve realized by now that I’m going to have these encounters for the rest of my life, so it’s either live with the fear or try to conquer it. This night—my enemy wasn’t just some spider in the window. This night—my enemy was fear! I think I sounded like one of those cartoon villains—complete with the sinister laugh and beady eyes fixed with one plan in mind: victory. I picked myself up and conjured up a plan. But I noticed something: the enemy was in the midst of building his fortress. The spider had evidently caught something in his web, and I caught him right in the middle of this tedious task that spiders go through. Everyone says that a spider web is simply beautiful—a real work of art, and to see one being made is just a precious moment (these are those alien people I was talking about earlier). We’ll, actually, they’re right. Seeing a spider in the midst of making his web is just amazing. It’s right up there with child birth (which I have absolutely NO desire to witness first-hand at this point). But as I found myself enchanted by this act, I realized something: It’s just a spell. That’s right—like a spell cast by a wizard or witch, they hypnotize you with their web spinning, and then they kill you! I quickly snapped out of it and carried on with my plan. The plan was simple. I was getting nowhere in this war by merely offing the enemy during battle. I needed real leverage. I needed a prisoner of war. I knew that I could suck out all the information I needed from the prisoner—information about the enemy’s next attack, who the commanding officer was, and so on. I knew that the only way to win was to conquer my fear rather than conquer my foe. In order to keep the POW, I was going to need a prison—something strong enough to hold—something easy to catch him with—something clear. I looked around and couldn’t think of anything. Suddenly, it hit me—or, rather, I hit it. As I turned around frantically looking about, I bumped into a stack of CDs, and as I started to pick them up, that’s when it hit me that I had found my trap: a CD case. It’s strong, clear, and I can clamp it shut really fast. It’s perfect. I grabbed one up and pulled out all of the inserts. I had it in my hand, and I was ready to enclose the little rascal inside. "But wait—if screw this up…" I thought, "…oh boy…I’ve only got one chance." So, I took a few practice runs. "Aim, shoot, clamp, pull, tape. Aim, shoot, clamp, pull, tape, Aim shoot, clamp…Ok—it’s go time." (Mission Impossible esque music starts to play) I slowly crept up to the window. "Aim." I took a couple of deep breaths, "Aim—again" I took one deep breath before the plunge. "Shoot, clamp, pull, tape—YES!!!" It was done. I had enclosed the spider in the CD case and taped it up just to be safe. I sat the case on a table and just stepped back. My whole plan was to capture the thing so I could get close without having to worry about it attacking me or something, but I found myself still jittery as I got closer. This hideous thing was inside squirming around like crazy. I had complete control; however, it still gave me chills when I reached for the case. But, after a few deep breaths, I did it. I closely examined the specimen with a terrible grimace on my face and a spine that felt like jello, I interrogated the prisoner until I had gotten all that I needed. What did I need? I needed answers—answers to lifelong questions. "Why do you haunt me, creature?! Why do you lurk in the darkness waiting for me to go to sleep?! Why do you…Why…Why am I so darn afraid of such a little thing?" I turned the case around to take a look at his belly and all that other disgusting stuff. "Oh, that’s why." My plan had failed! In getting a closer look at the thing, It only made me more aware of why I hate the repugnant arachnids. I might feel bad about it someday (not today or tomorrow—and certainly not at the time), but like most prisoners of war, this one had to make a sacrifice for the cause of his party (which is, of course, to terrorize the human race). I threw the case into a fire that I had going outside, and that was the end of it. Ok, so, right about now you’re probably thinking that I’m just a big chicken, and I’d say you’re probably right, but I will also say this: I’d wrestle a fifty-foot anaconda if I had to, but If it came down to it, I’d probably die before touching a spider. I really truly believe that spiders weren’t around until sin had entered the earth and the heart of man—seriously. Or, at least they weren’t so scary (and I have no idea how that could be); so I really don’t feel that bad about killing a few—well, actually a few hundred of them. I think that in reviewing these past situations I’ve come to a couple of conclusions. Number one: I’ll always be scared. Number two: life isn’t really about overcoming fear. It’s more about overcoming the obstacle ahead of you even though you are afraid. -dj June 15, 2004 |