Today I was driving along, on our way to play at a friend's house, and I stopped for a cup of coffee from Dinky Doonads. Halfway into my coffee, I looked down as I raised the cup up to my face and there on the back of my hand was a big old hairy gray arachnid.
I flicked the little sucker off my hand and it spun through the air on its little silken web thing and disappeared down to the floorboards, like only a spider can disappear. I continued to drive along, feeling vaguely creepy, continuously running a hand along my jeans in case the spider had landed on me somehow.
"Good thing I'm not one of those pansy-assed spider phobia chicks," thinks me to myself, "or I'd be freaking right now." And then I glanced down, and that bad ass little bugger was way up on my thigh, peering up at me with clear intentions of eating me alive.
"Glarb!" I hollered, or something like that, and again the spider got flicked away into the floorboards. SWERVE SWERVE went the car, and I desperately tried to spot the spider somewhere down there with little mini-peeks as I drove with some semblance of sanity.
Now I'm practically feeling myself up, trying to find that damn spider and do away with his eight legged mean ass. After a while, I settle down, thinking he's gone for good and all is safe again. I look down, and there he is AGAIN, on the end of my red sneaker. Goddammit, spider! Leave me BE, spider! What do you want from me! I'm just a girl trying to get down the road in one piece!
Smooshed with the heel of my other shoe, the spider meets his end. "It didn't have to be this way, dude," I mutter, "but you were hell bent on sending me into the path of an oncoming Yugo."
Could I have admitted it, had I swerved into a ditch? Could I have confessed that the reason for my bang up was a reoccurring spider on my bodily person? I really don't know.