Like a stereotypical girl I am absolutely terrified of spiders. The minute I see one I think my mind fails to interpret any and all sensory input correctly. Suddenly, the threat of death is very real, and a common house spider is a tarantula the size of a house cat, ready to fill me with it’s necrotic, acid like venom that will send me into total paralysis. I’m conscious of my heart stopping and my lungs no longer able to expand and except life giving oxygen.
Imagine now, how I react when I am alone. I have no one to scream, “Oh my God kill it, make it pay for ever living it’s wretched, eight legged life!” I never take my eyes off the creature so it may not scurry away only to reemerge in the night, crawl onto my face and lay eggs in it. I grab a shoe, and death spray (air freshener, hairspray, or household cleaner). I run at it screaming like a crazed Tom Cruise on Oprah’s couch “I love Katie Holmes motherfucker!”. I beat and spray the spider. Fear is the only thing motivating all of my actions. After 70 to 80 hits with my shoe, a small leg pops up. Though it looks like a squiggle line, it manages to pull the spider forward as it clings to life.
Guess who else is fucking scary and will not die? Jason, Mike Meyers, Freddie Kruger, should I go on? I don’t understand the physics here. If I were to be beat with a car, my body would become chum. How is this spider alive?!?! I hate anything with more than four legs, I hate anything with an exoskeleton.
I really hate bugs that jump. The very thought that a bug might land on me is pure terror. I am pretty sure I may be one of those people who are just an incident away from sever mental illness and a bug jumping on me will be the phenomenon that makes me walk down the street naked with a samurai sword. Seriously, crazy fucking people love martial arts. There are several mugshots on TheSmokingGun.com where some nut was carrying a samurai sword. I always spray the jumping bugs first with the death spray to disorient them, then I ATTACK!. The first hit is usually the most devastating because it’s filled with rage. I get angry that these bugs can jump and they take their creepiness to the next level. I don’t know if I have ever experienced bodily harm from a bug jumping on me but I think I would be more calm if I were engulfed in flames.
Perhaps this is a phobia, and maybe some behavioral therapy would help. I would punch my psychiatrist if he ever thought exposing me to bugs would help me confront my fear. I would however, help him eat through a straw for six months. In conclusion I hate bugs. Bugs hate me. I run my house like a deadly violent street gang, if bugs are on my turf, in my hood, they will recognize who runs shit around here. I need new designated bug killer in my life, or boyfriend, whatever.