I thought I'd have a little change of pace for this entry, hope you enjoy!
Hearken to my words! And prepare yourselves for an epic tale. A tale of virtue, resolve, soaring triumph, and -like all stories that go on long enough- crushing defeat.
Our tale beings in the dense, oppressive, muggy heat of my bathroom this morning. There I am, in the shower, innocently performing my morning ablutions, when i spy it! A small spider upon my shower curtain crawls. Intrigued, I watch this spider -this tiny creature- assured of its inevitable defeat for the folly of venturing into the watery grave of so many similar creatures.
But no! This is no ordinary spider, my friends. This little fellow is a paragon among spider kind. Rather than shy from the downpour, he valiantly attempts to cross the treacherous spray. Time and again rebuffed back to the relative safety of a fold in the curtain. But does he give up, does it resign himself to this sheltered cocoon? No! He struggles on, determined to complete his journey toward the source of his frustration.
Admiration fills me. It is hard to look on such courageous struggle without being moved. But the more I watch and think, the more I feel my admiration slowly becoming horror. I imagine legions of tiny spiders free from their debilitating fear of running water. To what heights might such a master race of arachnid ascend?!
It must not be! I'm sorry, but this must not be! I cannot let you father a thousand thousand superior spiders, little warrior. It is my duty to all of humanity that I send you to your watery grave -as a message to all spider kind that you will be, nay, that you must be washed out!
I fill my mouth with water and unleash a jettison above this brave creature. He slips. Falls. And to my astonishment floats. He dangles upon his silken cord, mocking my attempts to drown him. I'll not have it. Again, I unleash a torrent of water upon him, but to the same results! He mocks me as he clings desperately to that curtain, that vinyl wall. He resumes his climb.
Now my ire is the thing of legends. I will not be mocked in my own shower! Third time pays all, as the saying goes. This time, my rain of streaming water hits him squarely and he plummets to the slick acrylic below. Give him credit though, our intrepid friend puts all eight legs to good use! It takes three (yes, three!) waves of water created with my foot to wash him, scrabbling and fighting for every inch, down the drain, but in the end, down he goes -like so many before him.
Thinking this is the end, I return to my showering, but not a minute later, what do I see? This most amazing of insect-devouring fiends emerges, seemingly unscathed, from the drain. He has climbed up the waterspout! With the water still running!!
I'm awed. I'm humbled. I'm terrified. Clearly my assessment of his prowess and his danger to mankind was frighteningly accurate. And yet, I'm impressed. What does one do when faced with such stalwart spirit, knowing that his continued existence could one day cost you your life?
And so, with a heavy heart, and a heavy foot, I crushed him beneath my heel. I said a prayer for his soul, and thanked the Heavens that I was there to quite literally stamp out this threat to the human experiment, as he was washed down the drain. The drain from whence his mangled, itsy-bitsy corpse will most certainly not climb up again.
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