So I had this customer the other day.......ah fuck it you've heard it all before. I'm too tired to write it up today. Suffice to say he was a dick, he did dickish things, and spoke with a dickish tone. I didn't like him. The usual blah blah blah. But it's not him that has me tired. I'm afraid it takes more than a dickish man doing dickish things whilst speaking with a dickish tone to keep me awake at night. No I have a new house guest. And this new house guest has kept me awake two nights on the trot now.
I'm not normally fearful of spiders but beat me with a hose and call me Bob this thing is fucking huge. I first spotted it last week in the kitchen, it was making itself supper. Okay it was loitering with intent near the cooker, which is where I wanted to be. So I stood there for a moment and considered what to do. I don't normally hassle spiders, they do a decent job keeping the flies out of my life but this fella was a bit to big to be left at large. But then again he was the size of a fist and I wasn't in the mood for playing silly buggers with a spider at two in the morning. I was sure that if I tried to hit it with a newspaper that it would snatch the paper from me and beat me back out the kitchen whilst making disparaging remarks about my mother. So I just brushed it out of the way.
Off it scuttled away leaving me to make my scrambled eggs free from the machinations of my new house guest. I considered this to be the end of the matter. But alas this was not the case, clearly I just pissed it off. If I had turned round whilst making my eggs I would probably have found it flipping me the bird and warning me I had made a very grave error. But at the time I thought nothing more of it.
It waited a few days to make it's move, Sunday night to be precise, when the sneaky fucker knew I would be at my weakest after a long hard weekend at work. I was settling into my nesting positioning in bed, TV remotes to hand and tea and biscuits within lifting distance.
What was that?
No but seriously what the fuckity fuck was that?
From the corner of my eye I saw something dart across my bedroom floor, first from the door to the window then back to the door again a moment later. My heart was racing, pounding like a fat lad at the top of the Eiffel tower. Was I just tired? Was I seeing the Matrix? I sat there, upright, and fearful. I didn't dawn on me that yer man, the spider, was back, with attitude too.
But then I caught a glimpse of him. The cheeky, brazen, arachnid with balls as big as pumpkins was stood there at the foot of my bed I assume looking at me, and probably the TV too. He had clearly been preparing for this as he seemed larger than before. Maybe he had partaken in some sort of training montage in the previous days since our last meeting in the kitchen - running up and down the bathtub, climbing the walls, fighting cats and attacking dogs whilst listening to Survivor. No doubt high-eighting his spiderbuddies. I was in no mood for getting out of bed so I chucked the remote at it. A decision I would later regret as I had to crawl out of my snoozing pit to switch the TV off. He scuttled away.
Again I assumed this was the end of the matter. Wrong. He was just messing with my mind. Clearly he was trained in the Machiavellian-like dark arts of counter insurgency. Ten minutes later he launched his assault. Whilst I was chuckling along to Father Ted spiderbastard was making it's way up my bed towards me. I swear it was screaming, "VENGEANCE!" as it raced towards me.
"GET THE FUCK! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!", is pretty much what I screamed as I shooed it off my bed.
This was not cool.
I opened the bed room door to let the hate filled ninja spider out. It didn't want to leave. It was time to fight back. I searched the room on all fours with a rolled up copy of the Sunday papers, including sports supplement. There would be no escape from the righteousness of The Observer. After about five minutes searching I became very aware that I was crawling on all fours, naked, with a rolled up newspaper in my hand making verbal threats to a fucking spider. I was clearly out of my mind, well if not completely I was definitely heading that way.
I was sure the plate sized freak was watching me and laughing to itself. Eventually I gave up and got back into bed. I switched the lights off and went to sleep. Except I couldn't sleep. The spider had me freaked out. I didn't want it laying it's young under my precious skin. I've seen Alien, I know what happens. Just as I headed in to snoozy land the fucker hit back, again. You can say what you want about spiderbastard but its timing is exceptional. It ran across my duvet cover at speed from left to right and then back again. I shit, metaphorically speaking. The street light breaking through the cracks in the curtains made it even creepier.
I threw the duvet to the floor and squealed again. I sat there for an age with the light on pondering my next move. I considered sleeping on the sofa downstairs but that's what the fucker wanted. If I gave up now then I would be a slave in my own home.
I half expected to come back from work on Monday night to find the bastard sitting on my seat, drinking tea from my cup and wearing my favourite t-shirt whilst a crying LMM made him steak from my fridge. I am very aware that each day that passes my nemesis grows stronger. He must be beaten, hard, and with the Observer newspaper at that.
I sleep during the day now, night time is for hunting.