Late last night, I let the dog out.
And then I screamed bloody murder.
The biggest freaking spider you have ever seen in your life scurried into the kitchen.
It looked like a little house spider.
On steroids.
Lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of steroids.
Of course I screamed bloody murder.
Bob usually laughs at me when I scream at spiders.
This time, he was shocked at the size of it.
“Oh F**K,” he swore, slamming a coffee cup over the hairy brute.
It was so big that its massive legs stuck out all around the rim.
I swear I could hear it cursing and threatening us.
Bob courageously flung the massive spider-beast out into the yard.
I helped by flinching, whimpering, and shrieking.
And holding the door open.
When we turned inside, we saw that something had been left behind.
Twitching ominously at us from the kitchen floor was one revolting, hairy, spider leg.
Ewwww.
I’m going to have nightmares.
Nightmares of a man-sized, roid-raged, seven-legged spider.
With one bloody stump.
Returning to stab me in my sleep.
