Nothing to Fear

The distress signal came in earlier this evening.

Nobody wants to overreact.

But this was bad.

It was ugly.

She wasn’t sure, but she just didn’t have a good feeling. If it turned out to be what she thought, she’d never sleep again.

Maybe it was nothing.

But what if it were something? The wrong kind of something? The scary kind of something?

The only way to know would be to move stuff out of the way and get a better look with a little more light.

But . . .

But . . .

But . . . if it were really the bad thing, moving stuff and poking around might just wake it up.

And the unspeakable would happen. The horror movie music was already playing in the background.

So the distress signal went out.

The text message buzzed in.

I think I may have found a gargantuan spider.

::

I asked the guys if anyone would go kill a spider at Elizabeth’s house. JP, who recently found employ as her hired man for yard work, readily agreed. Even though he’s no fan of spiders either.

We loaded into the car and drove across town. We know how she is with the spiders. They’re a really big deal.

In so many ways she’s far braver than I am. But not with the spiders.

The spiders immobilize.

So driving over to eliminate an eight-legger was, for us,  a small thing.

::

She led us into the study, pointed to the desk and jumped back. JP and I jockeyed for position, each wishing the other would go up front. We leaned in to peek behind the three-hole punch and jumped back a little ourselves.

She had not overreacted. It was gargantuan.

I’m pretty sure it was not only a gargantuan spider, but a mutant one as well. It had more than eight legs. And it sat on some sort of crusty pod, maybe whatever remained of whatever it had eaten last. It wasn’t moving, so maybe it was dead.

Or maybe it was alive and wanted us to think it was dead.

Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

::

When we stopped stumbling and shoving each other and moved stuff to see better, JP took a chance. “It kinda looks like a leaf.”

A leaf? Yeah, maybe. With a little grass stuck to it.

“Can I use your kitchen tongs?” I asked.

She looked at me as though I’d sprouted a second head on my shoulders. Her mouth opened, but no words slipped out. No need. As the color drained from her face I could read her clearly enough.

Touch that thing with my kitchen utensils? I’ll never cook again.

Well, shoot. I wasn’t about to touch it with any part of me until I knew JP was right. Even though he’s usually right. I hadn’t done any recent research on treating gargantuan spider bites, and didn’t want to be lying on the floor with mutant killer spider venom racing through my veins in search of my heart while the two of them tried to Google their next step.

No, that’s not how you spell gargantuan. Let me do it.

Should we look under Arachnid or Araneide?

Hey, did you know a spider’s heart is a tube-like thingy that runs through its whole body?

Dude! Spiders have an anus. Look at this picture!

Wait, I can never remember. Which planet is next to Uranus anyway?

Hey, quick go over to the NASA page. I think we can see the space station over the U.S. tonight.

You missed it. That was Thursday.

Thursday? For real? Was there a new episode of Big Bang Theory this week?

The chill brought me back to reality. Nope. No way I was touching that thing with my hands with only these two standing by.

I took a pair of scissors (handy in case I needed to do a quick stab of the beast before it sunk its fangs into my trembling flesh) and slid the freakish clump onto a sheet of paper so we could inspect it.

He was right.

Yard clippings.

What they were doing on the hutch of her desk we’ll never know.

But once they were out in the bright light of the middle of the room, the terrifying gargantuan spider turned into nothing more than yard clippings.

::

The bright light of the middle of the room.

If I could just convince myself to use the kitchen tongs to drag the scary thing out to the bright light of the middle of the room.

I’d find that what causes such fear and anxiety isn’t a crazy mutant spider with extra legs sitting on the decayed remains of its last meal, but was just a dried up old pile of yard clippings.

Killer spiders or yard clippings.

Bright light cuts through.

Light, space, zest— that’s God!
So, with him on my side I’m fearless,
afraid of no one and nothing. (Psalm 27:1, MSG)

::

My meager contribution to Independence Day is up at Breviloquence.