Shower time! ~singing~ Gonna wash that filth right outta my hair! Ah… Hot water on full blast. Peppermint oil soap. Spiders on the curtains. And the walls. And the ceiling.
Awesome.
S’up guys?
They wave back, confirming I’m dreaming. They have no fucks that I’m taking a shower, and I have no fucks they are there watching me. They know the rules.
Stay out of my coffee.
Spider gossip drowned out by water spray, I don’t hear what has them all a-titter. Some of them tease me about the new grey hairs. Some ask if I’ve heard any mosquitos in the house lately. (I haven’t.) “Hey, you missed a spot!” ~spider laughter when I soap up the recently rinsed spot~ Whatever, my buddies are chill. All good.
Of course things wait until I have a face full of soap. Alarm! Alarm! Intruder! Behind you! Quick!
I throw a inflamed pressure wave behind me. I know my dream-house can take whatever I throw. Not worried about breaking the wall. But what is between me and the wall, however, is a bit more delicate.
As I rinse my face I hear something small and solid hit the far shower wall and plop onto the floor. I turn around to see a spider the size of a cantaloupe. Certainly not one of my friendly number, that averages the size of a marble.
The pressure wave crushed it, and the flames blackened the body, making species identification impossible for me. Broken and steaming, it sizzles in the water. The front two legs are long and taloned. Almost like scorpion arms. The rest of the legs are built for stealth and strength. Definitely a hunting species.
And now, definitely dead as another pressure wave from me tears the body in half.
“Is it dead?”
“Yea.”
“You sure?”
“You being snarky?”
“Before I answer that, I’m going to crawl on your head so if you try to smack me, you’ll hit yourself.”
“Why you!” The combined giggling from the spiders at my relieved anxiety made me forget my own anxiety.
I’m upset. Not because a big ass spider tried to jump me. But because the body is too big to flush down the drain, and both body and I am too waterlogged to transport. Well, fuck.
A curtain of the pale tan, quarter sized, friendly spiders descend on the corpse. Quickly they wrap up the detritus in silk and pull it away from my feet. Attaching the bundle onto the shower wall, they tell me to finish my shower. They will feast on the intruder, and dispose of what little will remain after that.
Awesome. Can’t beat that. After verifying all friendly folk were out of harms way, peppermint oil soap was once again deployed and no fucks were given.