The Spider

There’s an enormous spider living in my shed. One day I opened the shed door, spotted the spider, and had to resist running away and shrieking, such was its enormity. I tried to murder it a few times, but it survived my attacks.

Eventually I grew to accept its presence. Everytime I opened the door I waited to see it, lurking in the same spot—between a bag of compost and a Pollyfilla gun. I may have talked to it. It wasn’t a threat, as long as it stayed in the shed.

One day I opened the door to the hall and spotted the spider. It stopped, clearly up to no good, then ran into the living room and under the couch. The fear came back. It was on my territory now, waiting to rush out and run up my leg, or crawl over my daughter’s face, or savage my wife.

I spent the next thirty minutes shifting furniture around the room, trying to coax the spider out into the open, where I could catch it with a glass or stomp it to death. But there was no sign of it. I had to leave for work, leaving my womenfolk open to the beast’s spidery attacks.

“It’s up here”, my wife shouted from upstairs. I ran up and spotted the spider in a corner. Somehow, after running under the couch, it had doubled back on itself. While I was flinging couches around downstairs, it had crept upstairs to devour my baby.

I tried to catch it with the glass. I missed. It ran. I tried again, this time I captured it. Somehow the glass didn’t chop the spider’s legs off and managed to contain its hugeness. The beast reared up inside the glass, showing me its underbelly like the facehugger from Alien.

I took the beast outside to dispose of it. I’d do the decent thing with this monster. I wouldn’t kill it, I’d set it free. But as I crossed the car park to drop it into the dirt (and run away after), I realised that if it turned back towards me and sought the warmth of a house, we had a one-in-four chance of seeing it again. I couldnt take that chance.

I walked down the street past a roundabout, letting the spider go 150-feet from my home. If it did aim for a house again, at least one of my neighbours would have to deal with it.

I returned home, feeling satisfied and manly. I was a knight who’s slain a dragon.

The next day I went out to the shed. The spider was still there. The one I’d fought off must’ve been a different spider.

I’m now believe someone is developing a race of super-spiders, and I’ll wake up one morning to find myself wrapped in webs, being violated by human-sized spiders.

Someone will pay for this.

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