THE GREAT SPIDER HUNT

This morning, before I left the house, I was engaged in a life or death struggle. It was epic, ok maybe not, but still, people shouldn’t have to expend the energy that I did so early in the day.

I was just about to leave and I walked towards the door to the garage. I was about ten feet away from the door when something dropped from a great height to the floor. It instantly caught my eye because it was brown and big. If it can catch your eye from ten feet away, it’s got to be big.

A split second after it landed on the ground, I knew what it was. It was a big-ass spiderTM. It was initially revulsed as it move slightly. However, I knew I had to kill it. This was big enough that given a few days, it might be big enough to take down a small dog.

I assessed the situation quickly. The spider was near a wall but still out in the open. Nearby was footwear, boxes, and a corner where it could easily hide. I had to act fast. I turned on some lights to get a better look. Next, I had to take my eyes off the spider and go get my hockey stick. There was no way in hell this was going to be a short-ranged attack.

When I returned I panicked slightly as I couldn’t see the spider. As I looked closer, I was relieved to see it had just moved a few inches. I readied the stick, positioning the blade so it would be flat against the carpet. Inches above my furry, brown arachnid invader with my stick, I struck… poorly. I thought I had made a direct hit, but the damn thing scampered away towards the shoes and the boxes. It was probably my imagination, but the spider appeared to have repeled my attack by pushing against the blade. Nah.

Now the thing was dangerously close to the nooks and crannies of the storage boxes and a corner where two walls met. My next strike had to count! Again, I readied my blade, and struck for all of humanity. And again, I managed to miss. To my chagrin, its eight huge legs propelled it into a narrow long gap between a box and the wall. It was now several inches away from the open and much harder to reach. This was not good.

I could still see it, but the narrowness made another quick strike impossible. Stupidly, I jammed the blade into the gap, no so much as an attack, but as some futile gesture. The blade blocked my view of the spider, so I pulled the stick back. The spider was no where to be found. Great. I left to get my MagLite, and shone its piercing beam in the gap which was now sanctuary for my little furry invader. I saw nothing. It was clear for all two feet of the depth of the gap. This was not good.

Already late for UBC, I pondered letting my spider nemesis win this round. As I looked at this corner where he was hiding I noticed all the footwear and the three boxes. Did I want him to start hiding in my shoes? What about hiding in my boxes of books? That would be awful. I decided I had to go in and get him.

It was no easy task. For one thing, he could be anywhere now, inside a box, or in one of my shoes. I decided to move the three boxes first, which was difficult. Each box must have weighed between 30 to 50 lbs. and were stacked on top of each other. I spun the first box right around to make sure it wasn’t hiding on the other side. I lifted it off and put it aside. With more space, I examined the corner from above. Nothing. I then removed the second box, fully expecting it to bolt at this point. Nothing. Where was it? I was down to the last box on the ground, this was it. For this box, I decided to pull it away from the corner. As I did so, I initially did not see anything. As looked closer, I saw its legs poking out from underneath the baseboard heater at the bottom of the wall. There!

For the third time, I readied the hockey stick, hoping this would be the final attempt. I struck and to my surprise, my aim was true. Rather than scampering, the spider balled up in defense. I struck again to be sure, and the spider was turned into a brown smear on the carpet. Spent, I pushed the last box in and stacked the last two back on.

I then left for UBC. Perhaps one day I’ll clean up the mess.

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