The Missing Body
He was dead. That, I knew for sure.
Where the body had gone, though, that was the disturbing question.
It creeps me out a little, not knowing where the body is, wondering when and where I will find it, or would it be worse if I never did find it?
And perhaps, the worst question of all: who moved it, and why?
See, spiders don't really bother me that much. Generally speaking, when I'm outside, they don't bother me at all. That's their domain, and I am the guest there. But in my own house is different, because that's my space. And while I still don't really mind them, they do tend to startle me, the way they move so suddenly when their dark lairs are exposed.
That's when I first saw this one. He was hiding under something that I moved, and our eyes met. Now the other thing about spiders is that some are quite friendly looking, with a sort of "hey, I'm the enemy of your enemy, so let's be friends. You don't kill me, and I will kill all the other bugs. Got it?" And honestly, I usually don't kill those spiders even inside my house. Because why?
But the other spiders, the nasty mean looking ones, those present a different story altogether. There is something sinister about those ones. Something about their legs, and the size of their bodies, and the strange way they move that when combined makes them look like they enjoy being on the wrong side of beautiful. They know their bodies were designed to be fearsome and terrible.
This was one of those second class spiders. He was large, and he was a bully. When I uncovered his hiding space, I said, "Hello you ugly thing. Why couldn't you be one of the nice ones?" and with that, I captured him.
I wasn't sure what exactly I would do with him, because again, as a general rule I don't kill things, but I also didn't really just want to leave him trapped under there, staring up at me through the clear plastic.
Hanna came running by and shortly made my decision much easier. She stomped right down on him.
"Hanna, did you just kill that spider?"
"I think so, Momma," she said, stomping on him again extra hard just to be sure. "I think I got him."
She ran off to play.
Well, ok then. His dead body, all curled up, broken and distorted bothered me more than his living body had. I walked away to take care of something or someone, and when I came back twenty minutes later, he was gone.
All signs that he had ever been there were gone.
Gone.
A missing body.
Somewhere in my house.
It gives me the shivers.
Where the body had gone, though, that was the disturbing question.
It creeps me out a little, not knowing where the body is, wondering when and where I will find it, or would it be worse if I never did find it?
And perhaps, the worst question of all: who moved it, and why?
See, spiders don't really bother me that much. Generally speaking, when I'm outside, they don't bother me at all. That's their domain, and I am the guest there. But in my own house is different, because that's my space. And while I still don't really mind them, they do tend to startle me, the way they move so suddenly when their dark lairs are exposed.
That's when I first saw this one. He was hiding under something that I moved, and our eyes met. Now the other thing about spiders is that some are quite friendly looking, with a sort of "hey, I'm the enemy of your enemy, so let's be friends. You don't kill me, and I will kill all the other bugs. Got it?" And honestly, I usually don't kill those spiders even inside my house. Because why?
But the other spiders, the nasty mean looking ones, those present a different story altogether. There is something sinister about those ones. Something about their legs, and the size of their bodies, and the strange way they move that when combined makes them look like they enjoy being on the wrong side of beautiful. They know their bodies were designed to be fearsome and terrible.
This was one of those second class spiders. He was large, and he was a bully. When I uncovered his hiding space, I said, "Hello you ugly thing. Why couldn't you be one of the nice ones?" and with that, I captured him.
I wasn't sure what exactly I would do with him, because again, as a general rule I don't kill things, but I also didn't really just want to leave him trapped under there, staring up at me through the clear plastic.
Hanna came running by and shortly made my decision much easier. She stomped right down on him.
"Hanna, did you just kill that spider?"
"I think so, Momma," she said, stomping on him again extra hard just to be sure. "I think I got him."
She ran off to play.
Well, ok then. His dead body, all curled up, broken and distorted bothered me more than his living body had. I walked away to take care of something or someone, and when I came back twenty minutes later, he was gone.
All signs that he had ever been there were gone.
Gone.
A missing body.
Somewhere in my house.
It gives me the shivers.
I totally laughed out loud when Hanna came by and smashed him. And then smashed him again. After all that thought you put into it and then SPLAT! I don't know why that is funny. Just is.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I wouldn't be as concerned about a missing dead spider as a missing live spider. But that is just me. haha!
Gah. I know how you feel when bug bodies disappear. It's pretty creepy. And that is hilarious that Hanna came and killed it. Jill, Daniel, and I have gotten into a habit of declaring any bugs or spiders we find in our house to be our pets. Ha. The kids try to figure out what it would like to eat and bring food to them (always too big). We name them. Sometimes we put them outside, but the kids usually just try to follow them around the room until they lose it. Sad day that my children's only pets are random insects. Nothing like my childhood. Sigh. I can't be as cool as Mom was.
ReplyDelete