If you're like me, you probably don't
like spiders, snakes, centipedes and other creatures that would like
to envenom you. What I really don't care for are
the ones I can't identify. We've all seen those organge-ish garden
spiders who are harmless enough. Perhaps a small centipede that's
less than an inch long. Buy when I come across something I've never
seen before...ugh.
I'm cleaning out my cellar from a small
flood. For months, I was swearing to all that was Holy that I would
clean out the cellar, now I have to do it. If my
Whirlpool washer hadn't decided to burst it's flexy hose...Well, what
can I do about it but fix the mess?
Cellars...only in New England do we
call them that. The rest of the country calls them basements. I
loved playing in my cellar as a kid as long as the LIGHTS WERE ON.
Also, if Dad were about the cellar, then no creatures, monsters or
whatever could corner me and eat me alive. For a joke once, my
brother had slammed the cellar door shut, killed the lights to the
cellar and laughed his ass off. In his words: “I could hear you
flying up the stairs! I shoved my body against the door as you banged
on it like you were being murdered....HAHAHAHAH..AH HA HA HA HA!”
When you're seven, pitch black cellars
with doors that you cannot open mean every bug, spider, monster and
ghost is coming for you.
Nice guy, Ken was...for having a little
fun at my expense...
No matter, I fixed his Little Red Wagon
when I told my Dad who busted the typewriter a few days later.
As a young teen, my brother and I would
hang around down there as he played his guitar on that Marshall amp
that could be heard down the street. I was poking around, seeing what
I could find when I swore I saw this 4 inch long, reddish brown,
fat-assed centipede crawling around near the corner behind the
washer. I flipped! Jesus H Christ!
I grabbed my old Daisy BB gun and
started pouring bb shot into the corner where the evil bastard was
hiding. I don't think I got him. Those things can move pretty fast
with those numerous legs.
“What the FUCK are you doing?!” my
brother yells.
“IT'S A CENTIPEDE! HUGE! I WAS TRYING
TO KILL IT! YOU WANT THAT THING IN HERE?!”
I was surprised he showed no concern
for it at all. Why? These things are Satan's demons.
**
As I was cleaning out my cellar, I
found some wet MDF board that's now no good. I had no use for it
anyway as it's been there for the possible use of “I might need it
someday.” Well, someday never did come. I pulled it up, tossing it
out the cellar window and then I lifted the last piece that was lying
flat on the floor. As I moved it, this big fat, black and furry
spider starts running for his life.
I instantly become an eight year old
boy again.
“DIE! DIE! DIE YOU MOHTERFUCKER!
DIE!”
I'm stomping my foot where I think this
little bastard is and what athletic ability he had. He manage to keep
dodging my foot as I kept slamming it down. Finally, I hit him with
what must've been the equivalent of a WW2 BlockBuster bomb when he
went GOOSH and became flat as a pancake on my floor.
I then sat down for a minute,
completely creeped out by this spider I could not identify and began
wondering how many of his family were lurking in the shadows still.
I could feel their disgusting eyes, all 8 of them, per spider,
looking at me, waiting for that moment to bite me.
I go upstairs and mix up an Allethrin
nerve gas cocktail for them. I go back down and start spraying the
crap out of any dark area I see.
Ugh...and I mean that...UGH!
You want this thing in your house? You'd chase it with a weed whacker if you had to!
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