I’ve been on a killing spree. The body count – as of this morning – is up to 76. Since Monday evening.
This sounds rather alarming, but please, don’t panic, or ring up the Mounties. Really, you’ve no need to fear. Unless, that is, you are a spider living in my little corner of Vancouver’s North Shore. And you are planning to procreate.
Actually, that’s not true. I am not that discriminating. Most of my victims this week have been babies.
I was, once, far more selective. In fact, until recently, you’d have had a good shot at being carefully scooped up, escorted to the nearest open door or window, and given a gentle bon voyage and God speed. Sure, if you were particularly large or hairy, or too belligerent to sit still on the (unopened) bill or within the Dixie cup, you might have gotten the big squash. But I’d say two times out of three, you’d have lived to see another day. But not this week.
Chez Piggy is located in the basement of an older house. One expects to see a spider or two every once in a while. But on Monday, as I walked through the shared laundry room en route to my apartment, I spotted a large black smudge on the wall. So I unlocked my door, put down my bag, picked up some paper towel and a bottle of cleaner (both “green” – she adds, in a blatant and no-doubt futile attempt to pander to the eco-conscious and earn some brownie points) and went off to clean it up.
Upon closer examination, I discovered the large smudge was, in fact, several smaller ones.
And they were moving.
Now, I’m a vegetarian. And I liked Charlotte’s Web as much as the next person. But this was too much. Much too much. (Many too many, in fact.) I snapped. I lost count at 71 dead baby spiders, a couple of juvenile delinquents, and about half a roll of paper towels.
Then I vacuumed. The entire laundry room and my apartment. I actually moved furniture. And appliances. And promptly threw the vacuum bag (I am, apparently, the last person on Earth no to have a bagless vacuum) and paper towels in a garbage bag, which I tightly triple-knotted and deposited in the garbage can outside.
I think I’m off the hook: CSI North Van will have to sift through the mountains of ick at the Transfer Station to find any forensic evidence of the crime. Today was garbage day, and unless the truck was later than usual...the bag o' spiders is long gone.
Since Tuesday morning I’ve killed another three perps, including one full-sized, old-enough-to-know-better bad guy.
I am ashamed, yet unrepentant. Just don't rat me out to PETA, ok?