Eight deadly sins
A lot of people have phobias and obsessive compulsive disorders, and I am no different than you. I merely hide my fears and disorders underneath my 6-foot-three exterior. I am a young child at heart, and it is still kinda scary to enter a dark room without any light (as it would have to be dark if there was no light). But I share a common phobia with all of you out there – I am scared of spiders.
Big ones, little ones, and even pieces of dust that resemble spiders and I have to squash them with my foot just to make sure. All you arachnophobes out there can identify with that.
But I am not arachnophobic, even though many people are. No, I simply do not like spiders, which then makes them scary. Arachnophobes become intensely frightened at the sight of spiders, and are often unable to move a muscle due to their fright. My condition is actually quite the opposite. I develop strengths even I didn’t think I could posses. I don’t run; I kill. They scare me, yes, but when they are dead, I am no longer scared.
So, here is my lesson to people who are scared of spiders. Let’s call it, “Spider killing 101 – the tale of the arachnid.”
The reason I kill spiders is not for fun, I take no joy in it. I kill because I have to. I do not like living my life in fear waiting for that unsuspecting spider to be under a book and then…BAM…its dead (I squashed it with the book). You see, what I realized was that I don’t want to worry about spiders all of the time, so I figured out what to do. I kill them.
A spider, when having babies, gives birth to hundreds. Whether it is a male or a female spider, killing just that one spider eliminates a few hundred with every squash. One spider gone, a hundred to have never been born. I know it sounds pretty morbid, but I think it would be even weirder if I made death sound cute.
Now, I didn’t just decide one day to kill all spiders, in fact, I used to love them. They were my favorite creatures when I was a little kid. I kicked and screamed when the other kids wanted to see the elephants at the zoo. I wanted to see some spiders.
It took just one day for me to develop a fear of them.
I was helping my father clean his golf clubs and his golf bag and I went to grab the little towel to wipe your hand sweat on when two – yes TWO – more than ONE – black widows jumped onto my hand. I knew they were black widows right away (remember, I loved spiders when I was a little kid). I sat there silent. I didn’t move. I lost my breath. I killed them.
Funny thing is, I don’t remember how I killed them, but I didn’t get bit, and they didn’t survive.
That was my first experience with the spider.
The second experience put me over the top.
After getting out of the shower one morning, I grabbed a towel, put it around my waist, when three – yes THREE – more than TWO – spiders scattered across my chest. I flicked them off, and squashed them with the nearest Kleenex box.
Do you understand where I am coming from now? I have experienced the good and the bad side of spiders, and I have decided to not let them live. Argue all you want, but before you do, go out into the garage and wipe the sweat off of your hands with your daddy’s golf club sweat towel, okay?
