"I think we should kill it." Against the backdrop of muzak in our local grocery store, these words, spoken by my son, couldn't have been more out of place. Yet there we were, eleven-year-old Evan and I, contemplating murder in the midst of colorful fruit and the curious stares of other shoppers.
"I know," I agreed. "But how?" Evan didn't have to think about it very long. "The shopping cart! We could run it over with the shopping cart."
The object of our homicidal thoughts remained motionless on the floor between us as if waiting to learn its fate. It was a jumping spider; thick, black, hairy, and the size of a quarter. It had either hitched a ride into the store on one of us or else it had been hiding out inside the bag of grapes I'd picked up.
Whichever way it arrived, I had no idea of its presence until Evan warned me of its descent on a silken thread from the grapes to the floor just inches from my feet.
This was a very big deal. I do not like spiders. No, scratch that. Idetest spiders. My father, in an apparent attempt to ensure I'd need lifelong therapy, once chased me around the yard with a big black spider when I was five. I've been terrified of them ever since. Jumping spiders are especially frightening since they have the potential to jump on me.
"I don't know, Evan. If we try to run it over with the shopping cart, it may jump onto the cart and get in our groceries." Visions of the spider laughing at us while safely concealed in the corner of one of our reusable shopping bags flashed through my mind. No way did I want to chance taking this bad boy home with us.
Evan and I continued to stare at the spider, who had now decided to make a break for his freedom. Both of us shrieked and jumped back, further impeding grocery store traffic and drawing even more attention to ourselves.
By this time, we had managed to completely block the produce section, with Evan and I about six feet apart, the spider between us, and our shopping cart horizontally parked another four feet away between the bananas and the tomatoes.
A few shoppers tried to venture up the aisle but then decided against it. Their avoidance might have had something to do with our screams and the ongoing discussion of murder.
"This is getting ridiculous," I said. "There must be something we can do to get rid of this spider."
Evan took off his shoe. "I know. I'll kill it with my shoe." He raised his shoe to take aim at the spider.
"But what if you miss?" I warned. "What if the spider jumps inside your shoe?"
Evan stopped for a moment and reconsidered. Then, in his most fearless, serious voice, he declared, "I've got to give it a try, Mom."
I stepped back as Evan positioned himself for optimal striking distance of the spider. I held my breath as he lifted the shoe above his head and aimed at the hapless creature on the floor between us. When it felt right, he threw the shoe, miraculously hitting the spider.
Yes! We jumped up and down, high-fiving each other and squealing with delight. Evan's shoe plan had worked. I knew that it had to have a doozy of a headache, but was the spider really dead?
I tiptoed over to Evan's shoe, which was now lying on its side in front of the banana section. I carefully lifted the shoe. The spider was gone! I dropped the shoe and backed away, worried that the spider might have somehow jumped inside the shoe.
"I can't find the spider," I whispered, in case the spider might hear me. "I swear that I saw you hit it but now it's gone."
Not wanting to consider the possibility that the spider had either escaped to freedom or was somewhere inside Evan's shoe, we both just stood there, unsure of what to do next.
After a few minutes, it was clear to me that we had to settle this. For one thing, Evan needed his shoe back, and for another, I needed to finish up the grocery shopping because I had to pee. Don't laugh; I'm sure if you look throughout history, many famous battles were swiftly resolved because someone had to pee.
I walked over to the shoe again and turned it over. No spider. I held the shoe by its heel and bravely shook it, trying to shake the spider out. Nothing happened. As I went to put the shoe down, a dark spot on the outer edge of it caught my eye. It was the spider, smashed up and definitely dead.
As we congratulated ourselves on our spider-killing prowess, we became more aware of the people staring at us and what they were probably thinking.
Evan put his shoe back on, careful not to touch the spider guts. Then he did what anyone would do: he hobbled over to the only piece of carpet in the produce section and wiped that spider right off.
Evan once told me that the best way to kill a spider is to crush it with a tissue, throw it in the toilet, and then pee on it. Evidently, the next best way is to hit it with a shoe in the middle of the produce section at the grocery store.
Evan with the murder weapon.
Comments
Ten or more live within ten feet of where you sleep despite your serial killer tendencies.
Real men coexist with these useful arachnids and only evict them by scooping them up with a piece of paper and moving them outdoors when the women in their lives irrationally demand such action. Your credit card would have worked in the store or a sales flier.
The only exceptions to the BBE house sharing rule is when it is a brown recluse or black widow that wants to bunk in. Those bastards are tossed with extreme prejudice. Only cockroaches get the sole of the boot.
All life has value and as a hunter, I firmly believe you should eat what you kill.
Spider kabob on your menu?
I felt like I was right there with you and Evan (same name as our emerging adult), but if indeed I was I would have ushered us all into a retreat to let some other poor soul dispatch it.
(rated for the writing, not the mayem)
Once the adrenaline kicks in, there's lots of shrieking and jumping around.
i kill 'em. i figure spiders do good things like eat other bugs and all, but there are plenty more on the Good Things spider team and they won't miss the few i dispatch because they made a wrong turn into my house.
It's good to see you back here.
I've been known to ruthlessly chase a mosquito through the house, they can't fly when hair spray coats them. My fear of the West Nile Virus they carry is only eclipsed by my fear of two legged intruders.
Thank you for the images this created in my mind. Congrats to the conquering hero!
hugs, me - You are so nice! Thank you. :)
bbd - I wish I wasn't so afraid of spiders, but they scare the bejeezus out of me. Last night a 3-incher ran across the living room floor. I'm sure that I may have hit a few octaves above high C myself with that one.
tr ig - All of my favorite guys are stopping by! Thank you.
Oryoki Bowl - Exactly! Having to pee certainly speeds up the decision time. I appreciate you taking the time to stop by.
nerd cred - So good to see you!
Julie - I always tell the kids to leave them alone if they're outside, in "their world." If they're in my world, sorry, but they've got to go.
Candace - I agree - there are plenty more spiders where those came from. No need to suffer a coronary needlessly, right?
Miguela - I didn't know that either. I'm glad that we have Evan to set us straight about such things.
Stim - You made me smile. It's great to be back here. :)
Diana - Nice to see you here, my friend.
l'Heure Bleue - I had to laugh about your cat playing with the spiders. My dog Bailey used to love to hunt them, too, but now she's gotten lazy and has left me to fend for myself.
Bellwether - I hear you! While I realize that there are far more frightening things in the world than spiders, in my relatively sheltered world, they sure do scare the spit out of me.
Yeah – definitely a bit haunting when the kill-shot misses and the spider disappears. Especially late at night in the bedroom. I imagine them getting angry and vengeful.
Even minor spider-bites seem to have after-effects for days. So though we’ve tossed a few ‘Charlottes’ outdoors, we’ve also nailed a few w/shoes, toilets and pee ourselves. Good job.