You might be wondering why I’ve taken so long to write another blog post. Well, I could tell you that I’ve been busy shooting a movie (because I’m an actor now) or that I found a lover, but I know that you’ll probably just fall on the floor and start laughing like a lunatic, because as if… No, I’ve been up to my same old usual crap, but something happened. Something terrible. This incident took place a few weeks ago, but it was so traumatic that I only managed to pluck up the courage to talk about it now. This is my story…
It was just another crazy wild evening in my flat. I was doing my usual thing – lip syncing to the music playing on my laptop. I’m not exactly sure of which song was playing, because the trauma has affected my memory, but I do believe that it was a song from my latest obsession, the soundtrack of Into the Woods. And then it happened.
I was casually walking into my bathroom, from my bedroom/kitchen/rest of my flat. It went something like this: I was looking in the mirror and singing along, something like; “It’s the last midnight, it’s the last… OH MY FUCK, THERE IS A GIGANTIC SPIDER ABOVE MY HEAD!!!!”
I immediately ran into to my bed and started hyperventilating. No really, I was breathing so fast that I started feeling light-headed. When I finally managed to slightly compose myself, I slowly started creeping back to the bathroom. I knew that I had to check if it was still there, because spiders have a way of running after they are spotted, as I’m sure you know. There was also the possibility that I had hallucinated or that my weak eyes made a crack in the wall look like a humongous, flesh-eating spider. I have no proof that it can eat people, but my common sense just tells me that it can. It took quite a while for me to get myself to go in there. The little voice in my mind said something like, Just stay calm. You need to check if it’s still there. It probably isn’t really that big. Maybe you didn’t really… THAT IS THE FACE OF SATAN!!!!
So yes, I ran back to my bed and started hyperventilating again. This happened about four times, kid you not. Each time I would tell myself that this time I would be able to look at the spider without pissing myself and each time I started freaking out again. (Just to clarify, I didn’t literally piss myself. I’m not that crazy.)
I realized that I would have to do something. The spider was kind of in a corner, so trying to hit it would be too much of a risk, as it could possibly fall on me and then I would definitely piss myself. I didn’t have any poison, and it was late at night, but I had no choice. If I was going to defeat this evil monster that was threatening my very existence, I would have to drive to a convenience store and look for a weapon.
So, I got into my car and drove into the darkness. The first convenience store I went to didn’t have anything, so I drove to another one, hoping and praying that it would have something, anything that I could kill this spider with. All they had was a tiny can of Doom for cockroaches. Shit, I thought, this isn’t going to work. But I bought it anyway, along with some Coke for the shock and two pies (Two because they were on special. I’m not that greedy. Although I did finish them in one sitting. But that’s because I didn’t want to be wasteful)
I sat in my car and tried to calm myself: It’s okay. You’ll just spray a lot of the stuff on the spider. Drink some Coke… Dammit! It turned out that the bottle of Coke was a bit shaken and it erupted like a volcano on my lap. A cold, sticky volcano that soaked my pants.
After cursing a few words that I’d rather not recall, I drove home and got out of my car. I put the pies and the Coke (who I was giving the silent treatment) on my desk. I walked to the bathroom and checked to see if the spider was still there. It was still in the exact same spot, in all its evil glory. This time I didn’t hyperventilate that much, but it was probably because I was distracted by my wet, sticky thighs (once again, from the Coke, not piss. I don’t know why I need to keep clarifying this).
I took the Doom and slowly walked to the bathroom door. I imagine that this is how David felt when he got ready to slay Goliath, although technically I was the Goliath in this story because the spider was about the size of my hand. But I have big hands, so that changes it. I held the Doom about, and closed my eyes. Do it! For the sake of everything that’s good, do it. PROTECT YOUR LIFE! I pressed the button and SPRAYED that motherfucker. I held my finger down until the poison started running down the wall. It felt as though I was in a horror movie and the villain’s blood was running down the wall after I stabbed him. The spider only moved slightly. I turned around to put the bottle down when I heard a slight thud. And I knew what had happened. The spider had fallen, and it was big enough for me to hear it hit the ground. I turned around and it was gone. I knew that it had to be somewhere in the bathroom, so I quickly shut the door and stuffed a towel in front of it.
At this point, I was exhausted from the fight. I ate the pies and finished the Coke (who was still getting the side eye). I took a sedative, because I knew that there was no way that I would get sleep otherwise. I got into bed and closed my eyes. I started thinking about the possibility of the spider getting out and climbing on top of me, all like Surprise, bitch! YOU DIE!, or that it would start banging against the door (it was that big). I lay there in my bed, knowing that eight evil eyes could be watching my ripe, youthful body with impure thoughts. What if it climbed on top of me and started doing weird sex stuff? Worse, what if I liked it? Would that be bestiality? I mean, a spider isn’t really an animal is it? How was I going to explain to everyone that I was marrying a spider? Worse, a spider that I tried t kill. What an unhealthy start to the relationship. How would we ever trust each other? And then the pills kicked in and I fell asleep (a constant theme in my life).
The next morning I woke up, unscathed and without any scars (except, of course, for my severe psychological scarring). I walked to the door and prepared to open the door. I was well aware that the spider could fly out and rip my throat out, but that was a risk that I had to take. I slowly opened the door and looked inside. I still didn’t see it. I switched the light on and then I saw it: crumpled up on the shower floor was Satan himself. I took the broom and poked it, because I’ve seen too many horror movies to fall for the “I’m dead” trick, Mr. Spider. It still didn’t move, but just to be certain, I swept it into the drain. For once I was glad that the sieve was loose. God works in mysterious ways.
So, there it is. It’s funny how liberating it is to talk about the trauma in one’s life. I survived an ordeal and came out a better, stronger person. If anyone is interested in making a film about my experience, or if you’d like to interview me (Oprah, I’m looking at you), feel free to contact me. It’s time for us to speak out about the terrors we face.
Go well, fellow humans. Be brave, like me.