Spiders

Paul v. nature, part three…

Spiders. Damned, dirty spiders.

I remember a Far Side cartoon that featured two spiders that had spun a web across the bottom of a children’s slide at the park.

“If we pull this off, we’ll eat like kings!” one said to the other.

That’s the sort of spiders we have outside our house. Full of ambition, relentless tenacity, an no brains.

They congregate in three places:

- By the back door, where they rappel like Navy SEALS from the top of the door frame whenever it is opened. Freaks me out every time I take out the recycling (otherwise known as feeding the raccoons)

- By the front door, where every single night they string a single, invisible thread across the porch steps, right at face level. Every morning, I get clotheslined by the thing, and flail my arms around in a manner that makes the neighbours frown and cross to the other side of the street. Worse, my wife tells me that she finds the exact same thing - and she leaves for work an hour before I do. Which means that either I’m taller than her and find a new snare, or the spiders are actually resetting the trap between 7 a.m. and 8 a.m.

- On our car. Specifically, between the driver-side mirror and the door panel. No matter how often I sweep them away, they are always there the next day, glinting merrily in the morning light. These strands are strong enough to withstand Don Valley Parkway airstreams. One time I took the car through a touchless car wash, and they were still there on the other side. I suppose the author of this web is trying to catch all those Don Valley Parkway bugs, which would be like stopping a 120 kph bullet - a feat I have no doubt they could pull off.

Of course, Halloween is approaching, and what did my kids spend all weekend doing? Yep, decorating the front of our house with fake spider webs.

Laugh now, but keep your eyes open next time you are passing through the east end in the morning. If you see a crazy person flail at invisible assailants, then leap into a car that has been webbed firmly to the sidewalk, wheels squealing helplessly as an army of arachnids watch and laugh… keep on driving. When I’m dry and desiccated, you’ll be next.

Posted by: Paul Gorbould | 10-18-2006 | 02:10 PM
Posted in: I hate nature