Wednesday, December 26, 2012
A Christmas Story Starring A Fucking Big Spider
By Darryl Mason
3 days ago a Huntsman spider as big as as Homer-sized donut ran in the back door. I saw it run in. I saw it from the end of the yard. I ran for the back door, but it was too late. It was already turning a corner in the hall, and disappearing under furniture.
It was Christmas, who's got time for a war with a spider that big? That would be a mission. You're in and out, too much to do. We tried as hard as possible to ignore each other's presence, particulary after midnight. When it ran across the roof, it did it in a way that seemed to say, "Ahh, sorry, I need to be over there, so...I'll make it quick."
You can get used to that. No big deal. Spider got to do what a spider got to do.
What was unnerving was its habit of suddenly running at me when I went to open the back door. It happened four times. It's not there, suddenly it's there, clearly running at you as fast as it can. Fck that for a joke.
I didn't shriek, not once, as it ran at me ad I leapt out of its way, so I have matured somewhat since my 20s. But after the 3rd time, I thought about going out a window rather than going near the back door again.
The fourth encounter was just then, in the last minutes of Christmas Day 2012. I had to take rubbish out. No, not this time. I wasn't going to pushed around by some spider, even if it could cover half your face if it decided to stretch itself over your nose and eyes while you're sleeping.
It was time for me to stand my ground.
Or get something to smash the living shit out of it with.
No, spiders can spin webs, I can't, spiders might not be smarter than humans, but they're forward thinkers, and that's intelligence. Intelligent enough anyway. We could deal with this like reasonable beings.
Hand on the door, and out it came again. Fck me, was it even bigger than yesterday?
In that single second the Huntstman took to close the distance between where it had been hiding behind the base of a cupboard and where I stood, I was sure I could actually hear its legs clicking on the tiles. It ran across my bare foot, paused, and then stopped at the door. I didn't scream, but I didn't breathe either, so...
The Huntsman didn't run up the screen door, it just stopped there at the bottom, like it was waiting. Waiting for me to open the door....
It was waiting. That's why it ran at me when I went to the back door. It didn't want to be inside, it wanted to get the hell out.
I opened the door, and the spider ran out. Off into the night. I noted what I can only describe as an impatient haughtiness to its departure. Like it had things to do and places to be, and I had screwed up its plans.
Like I had wasted its time.
And as it disappeared into midnight shadows of the garden and...it was the wind, of course, the wind and the Christmas beer, spiders don't cuss out humans, impossible, but I heard something, something like :
"You asshole. You made me miss Christmas."
Posted by Darryl Mason at 1:31 AM