An Open Letter to the Spider on the Wall Above my Bed


How dare you. How. Dare. You. Sir. Or. Madam.

This was going to be a perfectly good Monday. You know, as good as Mondays can be, at any rate. And now this. Now I have to pencil a panic attack into an otherwise relatively stress-free morning. Did you think about that? Of course you didn’t! You just sauntered out into the daylight like you own the place. I don’t even own the place. But I pay rent, which is much, much more than I can say for you.

It wasn’t enough for you to simply scare the shit out of me. No. A little shock would have been one thing. Would have gotten the blood pumping. Would have been plenty! But it was so much more than that. You presented yourself there on the wall and you rattled my cage. I had to spend part of my morning working myself up to do something about you and, subsequently, feeling like less of an adult because of my trepidation. Questioning my fears was really just not something I had planned for this morning. Peering into my soul, searching for the mental cojones to conquer something of this magnitude and coming up more or less empty is not my idea of the ideal way to begin a new day that was once so full of promise.

And sure enough! Of COURSE. You didn’t die. How typical. You got away, slinking unseen off to some other corner of this miserable world. Because what else would happen when I am rushing off to work and have no time to nervously search for some sign of your abhorrent being? Of course it can’t be that easy. I wish I could say I am sorry that I attempted to bring your life to an abrupt end with a shoe. But it’d be more accurate to say I’m sorry my aim was so terrible under pressure and, therefore, the assassination failed.

Oh, but how clever you were to position yourself somewhere to ensure I had absolutely none of the advantage! Ho, ho, did you EVER have the high ground. You little military strategist, you. Knowing full well all the while that I would have to venture cautiously onto the unsteady terrain of my mattress to carry out an attack on your flank… Brilliant. What chance did I have!?

Sure. Even now, I can tell myself that you’ve dragged your detestable exoskeleton back to the cavernous pit of hell from whence it came, but we both know better. Don’t we? Oh, this will most certainly not be our last meeting. So help me…when that time comes, I will rain SUCH vengeance down upon you and your house. I will see that your line is ended. Your children’s children’s children will know in their dying moments that your foolishness visited this ruin upon them. And none but the hammer of the gods shall bring more devastation to your kin.

 

Anna

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