So, a man burned down his house trying to kill a spider.
Mmmyes. I can already identify with this story.
After seeing eight legged satan in his laundry room, the man did what any sane person acting rationally and calmly would do: went after it with a lighter and a can of spray paint. You know, that’s good… And… I like where your head’s at, buddy.
But you could have really hurt yourself and your family.
That’s why I’d like to offer a suggestion for next time in the form of this new app I got on my phone for when the incubus of the insect world arises in my domicile
If you’re a loyal reader o’ mine, you might have seen this video a kajillion times already, but I can’t help but be reminded of my dear friend’s desire to go pyro on his swimming pool post pouring concrete on it, when he found the badboy at 4:11 However, inside both of our grinchy hearts apparently sits the try-not-to-kill-things guidance system which led him to pool-net carry this motherfluffer into the woods and set it free, babies n’ all.
(I’d be remiss if I failed to add the part where one of its evil offspring returned to haunt his bathtime later that night). #NoGoodDeed
Then there’s the dude who lives in Australia and capitalizes on morbid fear-iosity like my own, by making anxiety inducing videos where he captures giant Huntsmans with a too-narrow-for-my-comfort vacuum hose. You know, I hate that term – Huntsman. It’s too anthropomorphized, and in the worst kinda way. (“Oh, it’s a man capable of higher consciousness? And it hunts? And it’s hanging over my bed where my face and nose and mouth are exposed for three hours at a time each night if I’m lucky? Mmmgreat.”)
(Camera hose? Oh, you fancy…)
As for me, I’ve not totally eschewed my arachnid assassination ways.
But I am getting better. For example the demon who weaves a castle where my balcony railing meets the wall, works days and then commutes home to have hooker parties night. So, instead of knocking him outta his web with a peach pit or the neighbors cat (like the old days), I just kept cutting it down every morning when he left. He rebuilt it a couple of times before realizing that the locale was a silk money pit of shitty real estate, gave up, and left.
Even in the house, I’m trying my hardest – if I spot Charlotte on a wide wall (where it can’t either jump on me or the floor where it’ll be MIA forever), I get a giant Tupperware in one hand, magazine in another and surround the bewildered creature. Once it sees what’s going on, it tries to jump – into the Tupperware. The magazine goes over the opening, everything goes outside, and if it tries to thank me with a handshake on the way out of captivity…
Well, then that magazine suddenly serves its Plan B purpose.
In sum – I get where this guy’s head was at. So, I’d call him stupid like everyone else is – but I’d be lying if I said the exact thought hasn’t crossed my mind one or twelve times.
Can’t judge-touch this one even with a camera laden go-go gadget vacuum pole.