A Slice of Fried Gold

The Index Card from Hell

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Without 12 evil letters on it, it seems so harmless

For some reason, late yesterday afternoon and early last evening I was feeling like crap. I think it was a combination of huffing paint for a few hours as people were working on our roof at my office and the fact I was intensely tired. One way or another, this led to me crashing on my couch last night at 8:30 and getting somewhere between 10 or 11 hours of sleep (which is awesome). While I was sleeping though, I could have sworn I heard my neighbors discussing brown recluses, but given the fact that I was sleeping and am deathly afraid of spiders (ask my friend Lorna, who one time saw me regress into a 4 year old girl while driving when a spider appeared in my hair) it would have been unsurprising if I had just fictionalized this.

No less, I woke up the next morning rested and ready to take on the world. I showered, ate cereal, took care of some laundry, etc. etc. and prepared to depart. Given that my hands were going to be full, I put on my sunglasses and started moving up the staircase to the door. In the extreme darkness (dark + sunglasses = extreme dark), I noticed something down by the floor. It was an index card next to what looked like a clear cap to an aerosol spray bottle. There was writing on the card. Through my sunglasses I tried to decipher it.

Benji ridicules...bart reschools...and then I remember the "dream" and quickly remove my sunglasses and lean down.

Brown. Recluse. With a question mark after it (evidently there was a level of uncertainty as to what this beast was).

Predictably inside of the cap was a big freaking spider staring at me time six. I wanted to do one of two things: stomp on the cap 800 times or run away screaming like a little girl (much to Lorna's amusement). Instead I get up, slowly walk away, and develop a permanent set of goosebumps.

Why someone would capture that monster and not kill it, I have no idea. All I know is if they are in Alaska now, I'm moving to freaking Antarctica. I hate cold, but I hate spiders more.


Erik said...

Dude, spiders couldn't care less about you. Just go about your shit and they'll go about theirs. It isn't like they are out to get you.

Besides that one, he was definitely out to get you. I heard his buddy is totally hiding in your bedsheets.

Tyler said...

I wouldn't worry about his buddy, David- word on the street is that the International Spider Council of Scrupulous Activity, or ISCSA, is formulating a very intricate plot to frighten the consciousness out of you, and then move your limp body to an unknown location.

Holy shit, I just scared myself..

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