Friday, June 3, 2011

A Letter To Spiders: Death Be Not Proud, Death Be A Shoe

Morning Readers,
 
     Once again, summer's here, and with it, a barrage of undesirable creatures looking to make my house into their vacation spot. Just this morning, I observed an ant power lifting a corn flake, scuttling it off to it's evil ant home. Butch and Sundance were sitting in my lap, otherwise I would've whacked it with the nearest blunt object. My soul died a little as I watched it get away scott-free. But, the ants will have their reckoning. Today I sit down to compose a letter to the real foe, the arch-nemesis nature saw fit to pit me against, for yet another, long, hot season. Here's my warning to you, Rhabidosa Rabida...


Attention: All Spiders

Dear Spiders,

     How are you? I don't really care. I'm writing today, to let you know that you're all going to die. I'm aware that some people don't mind you stopping by uninvited, but I do. Two days ago, one of your cousins crawled in my car window when I was trying to back out of the parking lot. You know what happened to him? Dead. If you think you can't die by gladiator sandal to the face, you're wrong.
     This morning, I took a trip to my basement and you know what I saw? Two of your kind fighting to the death. Do you think I did anything about it? That's right, spider, I'm no altruist, and it delighted me to see you guys were taking each other out Hunger Games style. I didn't know you knew how to read. Please don't think the fact you can read changes my opinion of you. It doesn't. A well-educated spider means a smarter spider, and we can't have that, can we? And, in case you're wondering, whoever wins that battle, will win the grand prize of being smooshed underneath my giant bottle of laundry detergent.
     If you think shear numbers will overwhelm us, you've seriously miscalculated how much weight I've gained since I gave birth. The force I can put behind a shoe would shock and, well, kill you. Not to mention, if I happen to sit on you, you're not going to make it. Speaking of giving birth, that also means there's four of us around here now, not to mention the fact I'll protect my off-spring at all costs. Last year, one of your kind tried to get near my children. You can visit his eight-legged memorial in the corner of the bedroom. I think I'll leave him there as a warning, like a scarecrow.
     As an afterthought, please don't think about ambushing us in the shower, in bed or while we're watching Netflix on the couch. It's not only rude, but wastes time, water, and irritates Husband when he's finally found something to watch, and has to stop to hit one of you with a broom. I know what you're thinking, but no, I don't care if you're not rude, but simply trying to watch a movie with us. You'll die anyway. Besides, spiders are known for their poor choices in film. Manors or no....death.
     In closing, I hope you've read and understood everything I've clearly laid out for you. You may be Mother Nature's child, but she should've warned you that I hate nature and care nothing for you. Make an informed decision before crossing my threshold, and ask yourself, "Is today a good day to die?"

Sincerely,

Paige


Until Next Time Readers!