Cursed Tongue: “Spider, Spider on the Wall, Ain’t You Got No Sense at All?”

Posted by CursedTongue on March 21, 2006

At the risk of incurring the wrath of PETA, I’m admitting to killing arachnids without mercy. It started the day I found a huge black spider crawling on an empty box in my garage. There was a moment of panic when the wind was knocked out of me like air from a bagpipe that’s been inexplicably flattened by an anvil. Then I whispered “Jesus-Mary-Joseph,” as if I spoke too loud, the spider might be startled and attack.

I dashed to the storage shelves on the other side of the garage and grabbed the “Flying Insect Raid” that we’d gone out especially to buy when a yellow jacket invaded our home. I briefly contemplated finding the other, more generalized insecticide, but decided that it would probably work just fine on creatures without wings. In fact, it was a good thing that the garage door was open, because I probably used enough to kill both of us if it hadn’t been.

The eight-eyed beast seized and tumbled to the cement. I left it there, meaning to go back when I was sure it was dead and turn it over to see if it was that horror of arachnid horrors: the Black Widow Spider. A week passed with me going in and out of the garage for boxes to unpack and tools, before I brought out the dust pan and broom and decided it was time to give the spider a decent dumpster burial. Gingerly, I nudged it with the broom to turn it on its back. There it was–the telltale red hourglass, a natural biohazard symbol, striking fear in the faint of heart, like myself.

It had been a while since I had seen any black widow spiders, but their existence in the vicinity of our yard and garage haunted me literally and figuratively. One day I found a sizeable web on our garage door. Entrapped in the web was what appeared to be a small mammal. Sadly, it was too late for me to save the poor creature.

Yesterday, I spotted a Black Widow dangling from the windowsill outside of our house, right next to the front door. It appeared to be dead, and I informed my husband of the sighting–not only so he can keep an accurate count, but for spraying with Black Widow Killer 3000 and corpse removal. My husband returned from his dangerous mission and informed me that the spider was no longer there. Which led me to believe it was playing dead so someone would come along and pick it up, so it could bite the unsuspecting fool.

Could I possibly have just admitted to believing that a creature with a brain the size of an amoeba would formulate a plan to spite humans? Yes, that could have possibly been me. But the Black Widow is an especially horrid animal. Everyone knows that the female of the species devours her partner after mating. Something very few humans do, and even fewer creatures. Cannibalism is generally frowned upon, and eating someone you know, especially the father of your children, is particularly unforgivable.

I suppose it could be argued that the Black Widow Spider is only concerned that her mate ends his life on an up note. However, for the purposes of this story, we will continue to assume that the Black Widow Spider is a wantonly evil creature sitting at the right hand of Satan.

Through diligent Internet research, I read that a bite usually won’t kill an adult human. Still, I am reluctant to reach blindly into any dark spaces and always wear a pair of leather gloves in the garage, which might be a little like wearing an aluminum foil hat to protect me from NSA mind-probes (not that I am prone to that sort of behavior).

But it makes me feel better and has the added benefit of making me look as though I’m going to do something difficult, requiring gloves.

From my vague recollection of High School biology, I was under the impression that arachnids were territorial and had no problem eating encroaching spiders. We’ve lived here for less than four months and have averaged at least four black widow spiders a month. That is assuming that I have guesstimated the correct number of spiders that my husband won’t tell me about, because he thinks I am freaked out enough.

The proliferation of spiders has led me to believe that an exterminator is breeding them and planting them in our neighborhood to generate sales. My husband thinks I have wandered into NSA mind-probing territory, and the spiders were scared out of their hidey-holes by the new construction. But I say, why be reasonable, when you can be alarmist? Especially now, since I have a good excuse to indiscriminately kill spiders. I’m defending my home and myself from those vicious, foaming at the pinchers, half-blind, blood sucking, attack spiders that live off of innocent earwigs, crickets, not to mention small mammals.

Note: The title is a quote from a marching song, the author of which I was unable to determine.

- Sarah Letnes

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