I was reading this post, and it reminded me of an episode that happened a few years ago. Let me paint you a picture with my imagination brush...
It was the middle of one rather warm (read: stinking fucking hot) summer. I was staying with my sister during the holidays. She was up at college and, with me being the only kid at home, they probably wanted some 'alone time'. So it was off to Wodonga. Where my days were spent playing with the kitty, playing cards, and watching daytime tv. Or, rather, my sister watched daytime tv and I read a book. Black beauty, from memory.
Lazing around the house on one rather warm day, and all of a sudden my sister comes running into the lounge. She'd been into the toilet, and on the back of the door, was a huuge huntsman. (I was going to link, but I couldn't look at the pictures.)
I should insert a little explanation here. My sister toilet was adjactent to the laundry. And it was about the size of a standard toilet cubicle. Except the door was on the right hand side, opening inwards. And you had to be pretty much sitting on the toilet to shut the damn thing.
My sister and I are both arachnophobic. And the hilarity ensues.
We firstly tried to spray the spider around the toilet door, with flyspray. But, being unable to see the damn thing, all we managed to do was probably get it high. I'm sure it was seeing very pretty things inside its ugly hairy spider head.
It was around this time that my sisters flatmate, Bernadette, came home. We both exhale a massive, conjoined sigh of releif. Until we realise that Bernadette is also arachaophobic. Thank whatever god you pray to, that she is not quite as bad as my sister and I.
She decides to squish it. But not until she protects herself. She enters her room, and emerges about three minutes later, apparently dressed to go skiing. Big, black jacket, gloves, beanie AND a scarf wrapped around her face. In fact, all you could see of her was her eyes, hidden behind her glasses. In the middle of summer.
She begins by collecting all of the heavy duty footwear in the house - about two pairs of boots - and throwing them aimlessly around the door. After every second item of footwear she'd peep around the corner and comment on how close she had been making her shots, wether spidey had moved, and retreiving the boots that were in range.
Eventually she decides that this is going nowhere. We start to think of who we can try to get to assist us to get rid of the hairy menace. Someone suggests the guy in flat #1. 'Freaky Pete'. There is a pause of about 3 nanoseconds, whereupon both my sister and her flatmate decide that they'd rather cohabitate with spidey, than get Pete in to rid them of it.
Continue throwing boots for a few more minutes. Then I hear a car door slam outside. I alert the others, and Bernadette goes pelting out the front to ask the neighbours in #4 for help. Of the two people who had just arrived, one of them is also deathly scared of spidey and all of his kin. The other has arrived from England to visit her cousin just two weeks ago. But after we explain the situation, and she stops laughing at Bernadettes attire, she agrees to help us.
She calmly walks in, squishes spidey and removes his corpse.
And yes. My sister did get to go to the bathroom.
I like pina coladas!