They Are Mobilizing

Current status - Wide awake at 3 in the morning in my bed with all the lights on and writing a blog post on my iPad. My laptop would be easier, but it's in the living room and I can't get it. Why? Because the spider was or is still in there.

My newest readers probably don't know this yet, but spiders have been trying to kill me for years, and recently they seem to have stepped up their game considerably.

They started with psychological warfare. This is partly my fault for letting Mrs. Sizemore talk me into a midnight showing of The Amazing Spider-Man, but seriously, I'd already seen the Toby Maguire version and was expecting a similar origin scene - a single cartoonishly blue and red spider gets out and bites him. It's not the best thing for me to watch, but I can handle it. What I was not expecting was an origin scene where Peter Parker winds up covered in HUNDREDS of realistic spiders, and that the one that bit him would keep popping up in AT LEAST three more scenes. I did my best to look at the floor, but the damage was already done, and that, THAT is all the opening they need. What followed was a good three weeks of nearly daily nightmares about spiders, no doubt beamed there through the crack in my psyche from some secret laboratory on the other side of my bedroom wall.

Once they had me on the ropes, the invasion started. First they sent a scout, one of their allies, a centipede. It showed up in my bathroom one day, running full speed up the shower curtain I had JUST HAD MY HAND ON like a giant asshole moustache. The bartender found it later that day and put it outside instead of killing it like a sane person. THAT WAS EXACTLY WHAT THEY WANTED. He obviously reported back to them because next came the vanguard. While the bartender was away, I decided to make some cookie dough for dinner one night, but on opening the cabinet, a smallish black spider came running out and I screamed and ran away and vowed not to go back in the kitchen until the bartender came home. I decided to take a bath instead, since I was broken from stretching class. But as soon as I put the bathmat on the floor, the kitchen spider's identical buddy came crawling up the side of the tub. This was FIVE MINUTES after the kitchen thing happened. I managed to wash him down the drain (and then ran scalding hot water down it until there was no more hot water), but there was nothing I could do about kitchen spider except retreat to my room and lay in bed obsessing about all the ways it could have gotten ON ME.

This evening, after the bartender had left for work, because they know that I am UNDEFENDED, a spider came running across the living room floor I had JUST BEEN SITTING ON. Angela saw it and pounced, but unlike Kristen the angel kitty who would have eaten it immediately, Angela is Furry Satan and prefers to torture the bugs she finds to the point of madness without ever killing them. I texted the situation to the bartender at work, suddenly remembering that I'd heard the bartender kill one the prior morning when I was in bed and still half asleep. He helpfully texted back that in addition to that one, he'd killed two other spiders in the last two days, a fact I absolutely could have done without knowing THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

So that's where things stand right now - six spiders and a centipede in my house in the last two weeks, all trying to get ON ME, the latest of which was being tortured into a murderous rage by my asshole cat who SUCKS at protecting me, and my roommate not due home for at least three more hours. I'll almost certainly be dead by the time he gets here. He'll come in my room to tell me about his night only to find my half-eaten corpse laying on the bed next to a note that reads "I TOLD YOU SO" and an army of evil arachnids standing on top of me in an arrangement that spells out "VICTORY!" It has always been just a matter of time before they finally got me.

It was a pleasure writing for you all.

UPDATE: Angela threw up this morning. The bartender theorized that perhaps she had eaten the spider. But I know her and she doesn't eat things, so I wasn't having it. "No she didn't," I told him. "I bet it spit poison on her! They were trying to neutralized the threat so they could get ON ME." Knowing I was already beyond hope, he immediately gave up and went to bed.

SECOND UPDATE: Now he's trying to tell me that all the spiders and centipedes lately are probably from when our neighbors cut down three huge trees in their yard, and all the critters that lived there are looking for someplace else to go. Yeah, sure. THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT THEY WANT ME TO THINK.

THIRD UPDATE (8/29): I came home from class about an hour ago, and had just settled in on the couch with some delicious cheese and pretzels to watch Futurama when something on the ceiling caught my eye. GUESS WHAT IT WAS. The worst part was I had to sit in the room with it for 45 minutes waiting for the bartender to wake up and rescue me. It was an epic staring contest. He was thinking: "Go on, blink. Close your eyes for a split second, it's all I need." I was talking out loud to it: "You'd better not move. Do not start moving, you dick." He evaded the bartender's first two attempts to kill him, and wound up falling on the floor, causing me to jump up and run to the other end of the room. He was finally squished just before the cat got to him and she is NOT PLEASED that we broke her toy, so now I have two murderous animals to worry about. SEVEN. SEVEN IN JUST OVER A WEEK.