Spiders Like it When You Whistle the Andy of Mayberry Tune

Spiders Like it When You Whistle the Andy of Mayberry Tune

She sat upright in the bed. Dark. Now quiet. Sure she had heard a scream. She reached across the bed to awake Bob. Gone. Bed is cool to the touch. Where could he be?
EEEEEEEEEKKKKKKEEEE!! Somewhere an 8 yr. old girl (it sounded like she was 8) was in great danger. "Bob, Bob!" she whisper shouted into the dark.
"Heeeeerrrrrrreeeee, down the hall in the bath! ........ SPIDER!"
"Well get dressed! Hurry! I heard a little girl screaming somewhere. Sounded close by."
"Ah....that was probably me. Spider!"
Well that's how my wife tells the story. I'm sure it wasn't quite like that. It was probably more like a Tarzan scream than a pre-pubescent girl scream. But she does have the part right about me being afraid of spiders.
And this is the time of year they decide to come into the house to try and chase us out of it. They can't spend winter outside. They want your house!
They start by building their webs closer to the house at this time of year. Webs that they cleaverly string in front of doorways and across sidewalks that remain unseen till your're wearing it. The fear starts. They never build their webs down low, it's always up, trying to catch your face. To rip it down you have to get the longest, pointiest stick you can find. Then you pull and poke at it, (it has the consistency of some kind of anorexic cotton candy, but with less calories) to destroy this nightmare. But the spider always gets away! Some sort of Ninja thing. Hey!, if they can spit thread that's stronger than steel from their bum....they can disappear!
The fear builds.
Next they send some of the small ones in...the spies. Test how much of a Nancy (or another feminine name with which to challenge you male macho-ness)) they're working with. I find one in the kitchen on the rim of my mug. I scream. Run for the bug spray and blast the whole can on it. But, from a different room, behind a secure door. Start to get dizzy. Must not fall. Will awake with a spiders web across my face. Go lie down in the bathtub. Spiders hate bathtubs.
Spiders are high-fouring (if they do five they fall over) each other downstairs behind the furnace. It's going to be a warm winter. The folklore about this wuss was true.
Now it's time for the big boys to play in the shadows, just around the edges, cause questions, create panic. "What was that!? Did you see that! ?Was that something!? I saw something! Go look! I'm not gonna go look! You look! My big boy pants are in the wash. Hey! A monster spider was just in the next room waiting to jump on my face! They needed cleaning!"
Fear builds greater
Now two of the biggest ones are sent out. But not together...separately. You'll enter a dark room and turn on the lights, and whatever they were doing,...they stop. You move...they move. You run to another room, they follow. You emit high pitched girly sounds as you cartoonishly try to run but your legs get you nowhere. Your arms outstretched as your feet spin, as if your riding a bike, but you remain stationary. He's gaining on you! You (as manly as you can in your new girly voice) scream for help from the wife. She thinks you've cut off your hand on the table saw by the volume and pitch of your new found octave.
She arrives to find you clung to the side of the door jamb, a foot off the ground. She kills the spider with your Tiger Woods #5 iron. You climb off the wall and recommend a #3 wood next time and make a mental note to buy a new #5 iron.
Later that night after several hours of horizontal unrest (cause you know the other one is out there) you get out of bed and ever so cautiously, expectingly fearful, plan your way down the hall to the bathroom. Target archived, you take a seat on the only seat in the room. You calm your fears by whistling the Andy of Mayberry tune, but this attracts the other spider. Spiders love whistling, especially old TV tunes. He now revels himself from a fold in the rubber ducky shower curtain, two feet from your face. He's big, black, hairy and your thankful you saw him while sitting on the toilet. Only for the reason that if you had your big boy pants on,....they'd be dirty again. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. The German Shepard down the street answers back. Firmly grasping the edges of the toilet seat, hyperventilating, while trying to control your urge to flee, you manage to eek out a more audible, but in no way manly, cry for assistance. This comes in the form of 13 Es and 6 Ks all jumbled together.
Bob! Bob! Responds the wife, and then something about a small girl in trouble scares the black menacing, eight legged arachnid away. After the #5 iron thing, spiders are afraid of my wife.
So, after that we save the little girl that had fallen down the well, yadie yadie yadie, I'm a hero! Seems her screams and mine, combined and spurred the community to venture out to see what was going on. Well.....that's my story anyway. So who to believe? Some #5 iron wielding spider killer or a brave, great Canadian hero.
Spiders are afraid of heros.........right?

BobNiles 604-761-2466



bobby did this