After watching Spiderman the other night, I decided to take myself off to bed. Because I was tired but mostly because the special effects back in 2002 leave much to be desired. While I was pulling back the sheets, I noticed three little spiders crawling on the wall near my bed.
'Huh,' I thought to myself. 'Maybe they are superspiders and I am about to become the next Spiderwoman, with my own slew of comic books and poorly made blockbuster films?' But, deciding that I hate the sensation of blowing my nose let alone having spiderwebs shooting out from my wrists, maybe I am better off as I am.
So I squished the possible superspiders with my plugger.
But then I saw some more of them climbing up my wall. And then I looked up at the ceiling.
The ceiling was covered in an army of itsy-bitsy spiders. Hundreds of them. It was like Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, but in my bedroom rather than the Forbidden Forest. And without Harry. They were all scuttling together and at any second, they were going to swarm me and carry me away to their hovel in my back garden.
So I promptly screamed like a little girl and ran out of the room.
What does one do when their ceiling becomes the set of a horror movie?
One goes to town with a jumbo can of Mortein. Then they have a shower just in case any fell in their hair. And then they sleep in the spare bedroom.
But after you've gassed a hundred-odd superspiders and inhailed enough fumes to make yourself high, some stupid thoughts start running through your head as you're lying in bed trying to go to sleep.
Like, what if all the itsy-bitsy superspiders who's carcasses are now lying on your bedroom floor suddenly come back to life and come looking for revenge? It's not like you can just shut the bedroom door and rest easy. They're superspiders. They'll find a way. Probably under the little gap between the door and the floor.
Or what if there are more of them? And they come crawling through the cracks of the house and down the airconditioning vents and I wake up to their little faces looking at me greedily?
Or I wake up and they've taken over the house? And instead of living in a normal four-bedroom Australian dream-home, I have to live in a spider hovel, kept hostage by the superspiders. And over time, I start to develop evil spider senses and then I terrorise the town folk like the nemises do on Smallville.
Or what if when I went on my Mortein-rampage, some of them fell in my hair and are now making nests in my eardrums? And I'll end up on a squeamish episode of Medical Marvels alongside the man who has tree roots growing out of his foot calluses.
Or what if they're under my skin laying eggs? And I wake up covered in boils which explode with spider spawn?
You get the idea...
I finally did fall asleep, with the Mortein can in one hand and my plugger in the other. And when I woke up, I wasn't living in the spider hovel nor was I sporting any strange skin boils about to explode with spider spawn.
Nope, I was your everyday 24-year-old girl. There were no side effects.
Except the sudden craving I have for insects. Not sure what that's about...
No comments:
Post a Comment