modern spiders have websites
Jun. 12th, 2007 11:39 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
janegodzillaI had an incident this morning.
Actually, no. I think this warrants a capital letter: it was an Incident. There I am, minding my own business, innocently copying exhibits in the supply room as I am accustomed to doing, and then all of a sudden a huge* spider with red eyes and bloody fangs comes racing out of the fax machine, leaps** at my throat, and attacks*** me.
THE HORROR!
...
All right, all right. What actually happened was that a wolf spider decided that it wanted to camp out on my stack of copies, and when I finally screwed up my courage enough to edge over and blow on it, it reared up and waggled its skinny front legs at me all angry-like and I fled across the room again, going "Nyeheheusgfardlekeek!" the whole time.
It's worth pointing out right about now that the mere picture of a spider gives me heart palpitations. Real live spiders, then, are a panic attack waiting to happen. Basically, if it's bigger than a pencil eraser, it's too fucking big. So. I was far too embarrassed to drag one of the attorneys in ("I know I was supposed to be getting your copies together, but there's a spiiiiiiddddddeeeeerrrrr!") and there was no way I could deal with it myself, so I left the room and pretended to do something else useful, and when I checked in for the third time I finally saw it scurry off my copies and disappear under the postage machine.
Now I'm afraid to go into the supply room. The spider is there. Waiting. Growing. And, in the dark beneath the postage machine, the spider will remember the thing that tried to dislodge it from its perch, will remember that thing and think, "It is my enemy," and on the day when the dark and the hate has nurtured it enough, it will emerge silent and stealthy from the depths of the postage machine, and...
And it will come looking for me.
And this is why I can never go into the supply room, ever again.
* About the size of a quarter, legs included. STOP LAUGHING. THAT IS A BIG SPIDER.
** Okay, fine. It scurried.
*** This part is totally true! Sort of!
Actually, no. I think this warrants a capital letter: it was an Incident. There I am, minding my own business, innocently copying exhibits in the supply room as I am accustomed to doing, and then all of a sudden a huge* spider with red eyes and bloody fangs comes racing out of the fax machine, leaps** at my throat, and attacks*** me.
THE HORROR!
...
All right, all right. What actually happened was that a wolf spider decided that it wanted to camp out on my stack of copies, and when I finally screwed up my courage enough to edge over and blow on it, it reared up and waggled its skinny front legs at me all angry-like and I fled across the room again, going "Nyeheheusgfardlekeek!" the whole time.
It's worth pointing out right about now that the mere picture of a spider gives me heart palpitations. Real live spiders, then, are a panic attack waiting to happen. Basically, if it's bigger than a pencil eraser, it's too fucking big. So. I was far too embarrassed to drag one of the attorneys in ("I know I was supposed to be getting your copies together, but there's a spiiiiiiddddddeeeeerrrrr!") and there was no way I could deal with it myself, so I left the room and pretended to do something else useful, and when I checked in for the third time I finally saw it scurry off my copies and disappear under the postage machine.
Now I'm afraid to go into the supply room. The spider is there. Waiting. Growing. And, in the dark beneath the postage machine, the spider will remember the thing that tried to dislodge it from its perch, will remember that thing and think, "It is my enemy," and on the day when the dark and the hate has nurtured it enough, it will emerge silent and stealthy from the depths of the postage machine, and...
And it will come looking for me.
And this is why I can never go into the supply room, ever again.
* About the size of a quarter, legs included. STOP LAUGHING. THAT IS A BIG SPIDER.
** Okay, fine. It scurried.
*** This part is totally true! Sort of!