Thursday, August 30, 2012

What Lurks Beneath

I think we can all agree that my front porch is one of my favorite places to be.

I love to relax on the love seat with a chilled glass of wine and my Kindle (or with a book; I can still kick it old school style).



I enjoy entertaining my friends and family from the comfortable wicker furniture, hosting Porch Nights, movie nights, and BBQ's.

I enjoy rocking away an idle morning, sipping coffee and noshing on a freshly baked croissant (from the bakery at the Hellmouth, so I guess I should amend that statement to "freshly" baked) while watching the hummingbirds visit the feeders.


My porch is lovely and peaceful and serene.

Or, it was until yesterday.

Since yesterday, I might never relax on the porch again.

Why, you ask?

Because my porch was invaded by killers, that's why.

Killers in the form of mutant spiders roughly the size of my fist. You think I'm kidding?


ACTUAL SIZE,  hand to God.

I made this disturbing discovery while watering my daisies and, while I would love to tell you that I handled the situation like a brave woman of the twenty-first century; I would totally be lying. Rather, I screamed like a ninny, called Hugh, and forced him to come home to deal with the mutant, dog-sized spider on my porch.

Which, he did. In a way that would leave me no doubt that the bastard was dead.


Research, conducted after the spider incineration, assured me that the spider was not a  Brown Recluse, which is like the most SUPER DEADLY spider in known existence, well; next to all those other poisonous spiders, I suppose, and, hellooo, Black Widow (Side note! Hugh eventually confessed that he had found a Black Widow in the garage a while back but hadn't told me because he didn't want to alarm me. I have no words).

Unfortunately, despite that research, I was unable to identify the exact specimen of our crispy-fried spider. Even more unfortunately, my research did indicate that all spiders, regardless of type, are  capable of laying like A BILLION EGGS. A BILLION. Which means that there are probably a billion baby mutant dog-sized spiders lurking somewhere on my porch, just waiting for the opportune moment to exact revenge on my family for our execution of their mother.

Yeah.

I will never relax on my porch again.

Also, I still smell fried spider in the air. This will no doubt incite the spider babies to attack.

I may never relax in my house again.

Shudder.

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