spiders

Someone told me that there were no big spiders in Canada, and you know, they were basically correct if you say compare Canuck Arachnids with the Australian versions; what that person failed to tell me however, was how bold and testy the little buggers are here.

Last night I was sitting at my desk, happily typing an email when I just happened (by the grace and mercy of God Almighty) to look down at my feet (which were bare I hasten to add), to discover a rather large, brown, hairy, 8-eyed terror of the night about to clamber onto my toes.

If I was from Texas I might have said something like “Mercy! Sweet horny toads and lightnin’ Jack, that is the biggest darn spidey I ever did see.”

But I’m not from Texas, I’m from Australia. Consequently my cry of horror is (for a preacher) not printable in this public forum, though it can be represented by symbols: “%@!!#&!”

This loud exclamation of filthy epithets was accompanied by my body leaping nimbly from a seated position to a location about 5 feet in the air. When I landed, I would have fully expected the spider to scarper off to safety, but no, the little blighter actually moved toward me.

Let me explain my fear at this point. For an Australian, the word “spider” can also mean “death via excruciating pain”, because we are blessed to have the deadliest spider in the world, the Funnel-Web.

The Funnel-Web is a large black beast that also happens to be exceptionally aggressive. It is the only spider I know of that is cocky enough to actually attack a human just for the sheer fun of it, and one bite from that anomaly of God’s creation can leave you either dead, or wishing for death. Here is one such beast in the “attack” position.

Thankfully the little brown spider that I thought was about to pounce on my foot and bite my big toe, was just getting his bearings. His lunge forward was quickly followed by a spin around, and hasty retreat under our couch.

That was when I decided he had to die. Sorry to you St. Francis wannabes out there, but after such a nasty fright, I had to seek retribution and purge my fear with a good shedding of spider blood. I quickly grabbed a broom, and carefully pushed the couch away from the wall until I had the little beastie cornered and exposed. Seizing the moment, I brought the broom down hard – whacking the crap out of this harbinger of death and fear.

Unfortunately, my first couple of hits didn’t finish him off, because when I lifted the broom, he went into a spasm of blind fury – charging wildly at my person, ready to kill. But I was ready. And this time I hit him so hard his legs went in twelve different directions.

Satisfied that I had restored the natural order of things, that is, I had reasserted my manly dominance over the house. I was able to relax and go to bed.