When the time comes…

Since what I am calling the “Arachnid Adventure,” I have seen a dramatic spike in the number of spiders making their presence known to me. They appear to me in the shower, the living room, the bedroom. Everywhere. Last night, we were standing in the kitchen.

Wife: “There’s a bug on the ceiling.”

Me: “Oh. It’s just a spider.”

Scott: “It’s a big spider.”

Wife: “Make it dead.”

Me: “I can’t. They’re my friends.”

Scott: “I can make it dead.”

Me: “No! I have to make it not dead.”

Wife: “You can’t kill it?”

Me: “No. When the time comes, I will need them. It’s my spider army.”

Wife: “What are you going to do put it outside?”

As she was saying this, the spider crawled just above my reach. My wife asked if I needed Scott to get it. I did not. I jumped and gingerly swatted it from the ceiling. He fell to the floor, unharmed. As they were talking about something, I wasn’t listening but I’m sure it was something about me being crazy, I continued on about my spider army. I picked up the fazed but otherwise healthy spider in a paper towel and carried him to the back door to set him free.

This was an actual conversation with things I said out loud. And I meant every word of it as I was saying it. Yes, I realize how I sound when I repeat it. But what if they’re our only hope in the future? I can’t take that risk.

Maybe he wanted to go parasailing

As I was leaving the house yesterday, the 11-year-old piped up from the back seat. “What’s that on the windshield?” I looked up to see a large black object on the windshield. It took a minute for me to figure out exactly what it was.

He was gripping tight against the wind, feet stuck to the glass, fangs, presumably sunk deep into his sizable prize. There was no way he was going to succumb to the forces trying to pry him from his place. And he was definitely not letting go of brunch.

Fortunately for the stowaway, we were not going too fast. And we were coming up on a red light. His spider-senses must have kicked in and warned him that what was coming would not be as easy.

Still clinging with his sticky feet, the spider dropped the smallest of webs. Enough to tether him to the speeding metal monster he had found himself riding. You could see his tiny legs grip the fly just a little tighter. As the light turned green, he gave a slight nod. It was go time.

As we started, I could see the wings of the fly slapping in the breeze. As the speedometer climbed higher, the flapping became more intense. I was sure the wind would catch the wings just right and send our tiny hero flying from the car.

He knew what was about to happen. And he knew what he had to do. I don’t know how he did it, but he managed to adjust the fly, containing the beating wings, while we were going 50 mph. I was amazed.

It was at this point that I gave up my quest of hoping the spider would be swept away by the driving wind. It was now a survival mission. I wanted this incredible creature to make to our destination with us. (If for no other reason than to get the picture above.)

At no point during our journey did I slow down. I knew he could hang on. He had already shown his mettle. It would have been an act of disrespect to treat his as though he were some unworthy passenger. Plus, it would have inconvenienced me. We raced along, the spider never losing his footing. Never did I fear he would lose the fly.

When we arrived at our destination, we all got out of the car and went to look at our hero and gave him adulation for his Herculean task. It really was an amazing act of bravado. When we returned to the car some time later, the spider and his prey were long gone. I am sure he is regaling all of his arachnid friends with his adventurous tale.

Epilogue

This morning in the shower, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a spider crawling along the wall. Perhaps it is from watching Arachnophobia as a kid, but I never took my eyes off of this potential harbinger of death. I kept one eye open, watching his every move. As I toweled off, I made sure not to cover my face, so as to put myself at risk.

As I stepped out of the shower, the spider looked at me, paused, then disappeared into some dark corner. It was a show of gratitude for granting his brethren safe passage. I have made an ally. I know that when the time comes, my 8-legged comrades will be there for me.

Nobody tell them about this whole “you swallow 8 spiders in your lifetime” thing. That could really cause some problems for me.

Am I going to die?

After dropping the 11-year-old at the bus stop this morning, I headed to work. Nothing seemed different. It was a day like any other. My mistake was looking to my right about halfway to work. (Yes, I made it halfway to work before I had to look out my passenger side window. Or at least while paying attention.)

Then I saw it. A small spider. Itsy bitsy, some might say. He was suspended from the ceiling of my car. A little curious, but nothing too outside of the ordinary. I’ve become accustomed to multipeds hitching a ride with me.

I don’t know if he was there before. I don’t know if he snuck in while we were getting ready to go. If so, he’s fast. Why? There was a full spiderweb, perfectly spun, stretching from the radio to the rearview mirror to the ceiling. And there he was, sitting perfectly content in the middle. Not moving. He went so far as to seemingly groom himself as we sped along. I was now in fear for my life.

I paid little attention to the cars around me, save for making sure I didn’t crash. Were I to cause myself to become trapped, this patient little arachnid was sure to move in and drain me, like he was True Blood‘s biggest fan. Should I survive the crash, he was making sure I wouldn’t live to tell my tale.

It’s like that tarantula movie I watched as a kid. (Perhaps I was too young to be watching such a movie. Maybe that explains how I’ve become what I am.) In the movie, the whole town is covered in web at the end. Every house. Every tree. Everything. Everyone is dead. All that is seen is a lone spider crawling.

I fear what the interior of my car will look like when I go to leave this afternoon. If he was simply biding his time, waiting to weave his sticky web all over the driver’s seat, trapping me like a helpless fly.

Maybe this will be the backstory on the next Spiderman reboot. I only hope I get credit for the story posthumously.

These aren’t the cheesecakes you’re looking for

I have electrocuted myself. I’ve been bitten by spiders. All in the name of science. Ok. So maybe my intent wasn’t science. Maybe these were just nature being nature. And me being stubborn and lazy trying to be efficient. But I decided to turn them into science experiments. Experiments looking for superpowers.

Up until yesterday, I hadn’t had much luck. I can’t climb walls. No spider senses. No shooting lightning from my fingers. Life pretty much sucked.

And then last night happened. There was a superpower I hadn’t thought to test. One so extraordinary that it could only exist in the imagination. Why hadn’t I even thought to try it, no matter how far-fetched?

Let me set the looney tune of the situation:

Punkers was walking around with a bite of tarte soufflée au fromage blanc on her fork. (It’s a recipe PetitOrange brought from France. You and I would call it a cheesecake. Don’t tell PetitOrange that. She doesn’t like cheesecake. It’s not fancy sounding enough for the French.) My fear was that it would fall from the utensil, not to be found until it made its presence known olfactorily. An experience I did not want. The conversation went thusly:

Me: “Eat your cheesecake.”

Punkers: “No!”

Me: “Eat it before it falls on the floor.”

Punkers: “No!”

Me: “Yes!”

Punkers: “No!”

Me: “Yes!”

Punkers: “No!”

I think you get the idea. This went on for some time. Each time, the smirk on her face grew larger. Then it hit me! (A thought, not the cheesecake. Although, that would have been equally amusing.)

Me: “Yes!”

Punkers: “No!”

Me: “No!”

Punkers: “Yes!”

Haha! Success! Mind control, beaches! Top that! (Not that she actually ate the tarte soufflée au fromage blanc. Shut up.)

What up now, Doc?

My life could be a musical…

The other day I noticed that I have what appears to be a spider bite on my finger. Why am I accusing a spider, why couldn’t it be…I don’t have the name of a good biting insect at the moment. There are two little scabs next to each other. It’s a spider bite. Because I said so.

Yesterday, as I was walking out the front door, I walked through a spider web. It’s like someone was trying to tell me something. Was the spider maybe , say, radioactive? Might I get special powers? I crossed my fingers.
My eyes did get a little better that afternoon. Much like the movie, my vision was blurrier with my glasses on. That may have been only for things about an arm’s length away. And it may have had something to do with my eyes being dilated (not only did I get to be a pirate for a bit, I got these sweet shades that I simply have to slip on the inside of my glasses. Sexy.)

My vision went back to normal later in the evening. And there were no signs of any other special powers. I decided that I would call it a night. Maybe the powers take some time to gestate.

The next morning arrived. I was excited about my potential new powers. I should be agile. I should have perfect vision. I should be able to climb walls. What’s not to be excited about, right?

I didn’t put on my glasses this morning. This is odd. Everything is blurry. Unless it’s close to my face. I don’t know why everyone acts like 20/20 vision is so great. It doesn’t seem much different from what I’m used to. But I went with it.

The agility. That can’t fail me. I ran around the house trying to dodge obstacles at the last second. Given my new perfect vision, I couldn’t see things until the last second, anyway. I banged my shin twice. Stubbed my toe thrice. Not going as well as I had hoped.

Climbing walls. This, too, did not go as planned. That’s all I have to say about that.

Surely, I must at least have “spider senses.” That tingly feeling that alerts me of danger before it happens. I paid a man on the street $20 to randomly try to attack me throughout the day. I’ve been punched in the head four times now. And he keeps calling me Shirley.

I don’t get it. There is no way I was bit by an ordinary, run-of-the-mill spider. That kind of thing just doesn’t happen. And the web I walked into couldn’t have merely been a coincidence. I’m sure it wasn’t an elaborate set up by the spider that bit me. They’re not that clever. Are they?

(And why are none of the lights on? Can’t someone please turn off the dark? Please. )

I want my mediocre powers back. Comic books are full of lies. Jerks. Anybody have an ice pack?