Something I forgot to mention in recent blogs, which has been plaguing me these last few days…
Last Friday, I had an unexpected, yet all the same distressing, experience with a spider.
This one was not as big as some of its brothers, which have invaded my flat in recent years. If my memory serves me correctly, Friday’s eight-legged fiend was only the size of a dinner plate – a tiddler in comparison.
The intruder was dealt with in the usual manner – a quick spray from my trusty spider killer. It ran under the TV cabinet and hasn’t been seen since. I can only assume it has died, unless it is living there now, slowly bulking itself up and learning martial arts, like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, with a plan to one day come out and violently attack me.
More disturbing than the actual spider was what it appeared to shit after being sprayed. Left on my living room carpet was a baby spider. I always thought spiders hatched from eggs like the face huggers in Alien, not respawn into babies after being killed.
I just hope Mummy Spider hasn’t left more babies in my flat, as I will be in real trouble when they inevitably form an arachnid army and attack me, along with the ‘Uma Thurman Mummy Spider’.
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