Kansas the Spider
After calling my neighbor to come save me from a very large spider in my house, I managed to giggle uncontrollably. So this spider the size of Kansas was sitting on my curtain and after doing the stare down for thirty minutes and crying, squealing, you know all the threats for him (well, I’m sure it was a her because only the females grow as large as entire states, right?) to exit my home immediately before I….shit, I didn’t know what to do. So I called a neighbor, who thought maybe I had fallen down the stairs and broken something because I was crying so hard, to come rescue me and my home from Kansas. Within a few minutes, she showed up at my door armed with a Dora the Explorer baseball bat and two plastic golf clubs. She told me, “I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, I hope I am prepared.” Well sure, if you want to go hit a few rounds or knock down mails boxes when we’re done here, but for now, I have this spider, whom I have aptly named Kansas on my curtains and he needs to be dead – quickly – now. She walked in and said, “Wow, I’m not sure I brought the right weapons, he’s huge!” Right, I knew that, he’s not Texas or California, but he’s also not Rhode Island. After her own stare down and willing him out of the house, she whacked at him with the baseball bat. He crawled behind the curtains, taking the advantage. Another squeal came out of my mouth, or maybe ten more, and then I saw two of his legs climbing back over the top of the curtain rod. Suddenly Kansas was the starring role in a 1950s horror movie. Another squeal. My neighbor looked at me and said, “Well that didn’t work quite like I thought it would.” What, because he’s not a Swiper no swiping baseball? She thought for a minute and then it hit me! “Do you want to spray him?” I asked. Big question mark coming from her… I handed her a can of Lysol. “Lysol? We’re going to disinfect him?” she asked. And my response….”Well, I don’t have any perfume.” Now I’m laughing. I went from hysterics and fear to uncontrollable laughing. I’m certain she thinks I’m on crack. I simply said, “You’ve never heard Suzanne Westenhoefer.” The Lysol worked by the way; and the Dora bat. She managed to spray it until it fell to the floor where she promptly beat it with a bat.