Irrational Fear

Fear of Spiders

Chad Herbst

Nowhere else in the world would I want to be. I have the covers just the way I want them on my bed, and the rain dancing on the house creates an even more comfortable situation. Then, suddenly, I feel something crawling on my leg. Without even considering destructing my comfortability, I hurdle out of my bed like an olympic athlete. I fire my blankets across the room onto my brother’s bed, hoping selfishly that the spider finds his bed a more suitable home. Arachnophobia at its finest folks. The spider surely meant no harm, and even if it did, a creature the size of a dime would presumably struggle to adequately harm me. Nevertheless, the fact that I could not locate the eight-legged menace meant a migration to another room for my slumber. No chances can be taken when a spider is on the loose. Now if the the arachnid had claimed the ceiling, that would be ok, because one can always keep tabs on a spider up above. But the second the creature ventures in heat’s opposite direction, that is where the line must be drawn. Then there’s always the unfortunate situation where one individual may be summoned by another to eliminate the spider on the ceiling. Such a precise task this is. Stab too fast with the paper towel, and the spider is knocked from the ceiling to the camouflaged floor below. Attack the creature too slow, and it crawls from the paper towel to freedom for another minute. A sport in its own right: Arach-Attack. Whether the sport catches on or not, people in shoes my size only hope that the ones who do play can maybe put a dent in the spider population.