Spiders in the Morning
I rolled over, stretched a bit, opened my eyes, and shrieked. Right next to me, resting comfortably on my pillow, was the nastiest spider in the world. "Aaddrick!" I yelped, edging away from the spider. I was moving slowly, trying not to alert the spider to my intentions of having him squashed. "Whadishat?" he groaned sleepily, and rolled away from me. I was now making my way to the foot of the bed. Not taking my eyes off the spider for a second, I reached over and prodded my slumbering spouse in the side.
Nothing. I waited, making sure that there was no imminent danger of a spider attack, and poked again, harder. "OW!" Aaddrick glared at me as he rolled halfway over. I shrieked again. He had inadvertently rolled almost onto the spider, and it in turn had scurried towards me. "Don't let it eat me!" I yelled, scrambling even further backwards. Consequently, I fell off the end of the bed, landing hard on my bottom, and loosing sight of the spider. Aaddrick laughed and looked at me, and seeing the look of horror on my face, pronounced "I think you've gone crazy."
Now upset that in the entire five minutes he had been awake he hadn't yet come to my rescue and squashed the vile arachnid, I lost it. "There was a spider on my pillow! Would you just kill the damn thing?" He blinked, sat up, and looked curiously at the pillow. "I don't see a spider." He announced. "You nearly rolled over it! Of course it moved!" Again he searched the bed and, this time, he located the spider. "Whoa... that's one nasty spider." "So are you going to rescue me?" I pleaded. He nodded, and grabbed one of the mason jars he uses as a capture and release insect relocation program. Unfortunately for him, in the minute it took him to locate the jar and it's corresponding lid, one of the cats had decided to come see what all the fuss was about.
In a blur of black and gray, our Little Moose had located the threat and in a few mere seconds he was chomping down on spider guts. Especially proud of himself for being a wonderful protector moose, he sauntered over to me, and ploped himself down in my lap, purring loudly enough for Aaddrick to hear. "When'd the moose come in?" He asks. "When he decided he was hungry." I replied, and Aaddrick turned to look at me funny. "He ate the spider." I informed, and lay back down, pulling Little Moose on top of me.
Quick as could be, the moose scrambled off of me, and settled himself onto the pillow above me. As the little moose began licking my forehead, his morning wake-me-up ritual, my husband looked over at me and chuckled. "What?" "You've got something on your forehead." He informed me as he handed me a small mirror. There, stuck to my forehead by cat spit, was a single still-twitching spider leg.
I screamed.