Spiders

Of all the creations that roam the earth, spiders are without a doubt the most foul. Sure they serve a purpose -- they fill a niche, so to speak. But let's face it; spiders are evil incarnate.

First, let us examine the preferred domicile of the spider. Out in the open? In broad daylight? Oh no, not at all. Think of the creepiest, darkest, scariest places around your home or garage. That’s where spiders roam. They hide in your underwear drawer. The hide in your shoes. They’re in the closet -- not in the middle of the floor like an honest bug, but where you least expect them. They wait to scurry up your pants leg. They hide where it’s hardest to search for them.
There is also their method of attack to consider. No face to face confrontation here. Spiders are the sneakiest stab-you-in-the-back bastards on earth. Rattle snakes rattle. Lions roar. Even a house cat will give you some warning that your last days are at hand. Not a spider, though. They wait until your back is turned. They hide until the lights go off. They know when you are sleeping. They move like a native through the jungle. They make no sound, give no quarter, and your first clue that they are around is just as they slip the daggers to you. Just as silently as they arrive, they leave.

Bees can only sting you once, and then only in self defense. They give their life to try to save their community. Spiders are solitary creatures. They answer to no one. They can bite you today, and return tomorrow to finish the job. Often, if they sense they have the advantage, they’ll let you have another bite or two, just for good measure. The bite of a spider is a wonderful gift that keeps on giving. You know that a spider has bitten you not only by the intense pain you initially feel, but also by the insatiable itch you get afterwards, followed up by that exact same pain again if you so much as touch the area. It’s a gift that just keeps on giving. With every brush, touch or bump of the area, instant gratification is realized by another throbbing, searing pain.

What’s worse, some spiders seem to defy time and space. Some can teleport themselves from one place to another faster than the eye can follow. They never seem to move their legs; they just lurch about in fits and starts -- first here and then there. They call these physics-defying spiders “jumping spiders” and the name does no justice to their means of locomotion. Next time you see one on your window, watch it closely. It’s as if they think of where they wish to be next, and then they’re there. Poof!

The foulest thing of all is that generally they don’t kill their prey all at once. Oh no, spiders like to take it nice and slow. Their first bite paralyzes their prey. Once neatly wrapped in a tight web (to prevent movement in case the first inoculation of venom was insufficient and also to preserve their prey’s moistness) they take days, even weeks, to enjoy their meal. Digestive juices in the venom slowly break down their meal. Then they can savor it slowly, while the hapless critter can do naught but be sucked down like a hamburger with a straw in it.

I bring all this up because earlier tonight, I had to abandon my recliner. A fearsome beast of a spider not much larger than a small house cat tried to pull a sneak attack on my unprotected big toe. I escaped with my life, but I refused to enter the living room again until I saw its crushed body. Of course I can’t be certain that it’s the same spider, as all spiders look a lot smaller when dead. This one for instance, seemed incredibly small after death compared to his awe-inspiring size when alive. Still, I tell myself that it’s the same spider.

The best lies -- the ones that are the most believable -- are the ones we tell ourselves.