Arachnid's Eviction

by Jordan Spencer Cunningham on

Hm… someone ought to write a song and call it Arachnid’s Eviction. Sounds like something our friends at OCRemix might dream up.

To the point:

I always like to have a spider living in my window during the summer for the sole purpose of cutting down on the bugs in my room as I don’t have a screen in the window. The spider must be small, however, or else I begin to get suspicious– especially when I often wake up with itchy bites on my appendages.

This season, I had two baby spiders living in my window: one in the corner nearest the daylight, and one amidst the railings on a model diesel engine that sits in the sill. Even though the spider in the diesel engine mysteriously went missing several weeks ago, they’ve kept my room vaguely bug-free except for large moths. Unfortunately, my remaining arachnid friend began to get too big for his britches– almost literally supposing he wore clothes. I told him time and time again that he needed to stop gaining weight or else I would be forced to take drastic action. He only wedged deeper into his lair and spat at me whenever I said this; by now you can see that my roomate wasn’t the friendliest.

Tonight, I had had enough. I happened to walk into the room right as he was about to take his midnight stroll, and, seeing his great explosion in size, I grabbed a glass and a CD case and began the hunt. This little bugger was on to me, and we played cops and robbers for some time– ducking in and out of crevices, running at incredibly high speeds, and performing acrobatics from a thread. Finally, however, I got the bad boy in the glass and deported him outside on top of the car. Even though he was a rather rude bloke, I felt we had some connections after living in the same room for several months, so I didn’t have the heart to end his life.

“Now, I don’t ever want to see your face again,” I told him as he angrily crawled towards the windshield.

He only turned around and spat at me again. I raised my arm as if to backhand him, and he scurried away.

Jerk.