Tag Archives: killing spiders

Convictions

Author’s note:

This story unintentionally became an interesting writing experiment. As I often do, I wrote about an actual event in my life, with minor edits to names and events to make everything more concise, consistent, and digestible. I posted the story and heard from a few readers that they were unsatisfied with the ending…it built to an unfulfilling climax. So, I took that feedback and wrote an alternate ending. When I posted the new version of the story, those that had been previously disappointed responded their approval…this was what they had wanted, thank you. But I also received several comments from others about how they preferred the original ending, that the new one seemed like “too much.”

So, here below are both versions, the first intact, followed by the alternate ending. I hope that you enjoy one of them, both, or at least the experiment.  -JL  

Kevin stared at his iPhone, confused.

He electronically bookmarked the novel in his Kindle to better focus on the image that had just buzzed into his phone. Chicago’s west side raced past the windows of the commuter train behind the photo in Jessica’s text.

What the hell? Kev thought as he looked at the screen.

Three little periods below the picture signaled that Jess was busy texting him some sort of explanation. He tried to solve the mystery of what this was before the answer appeared. It was simple, yet bizarre. A red, quart-sized plastic container sat inverted on his kitchen floor with a 28 ounce can of Bush’s Homestyle baked beans resting on top…some child’s tower of kitchen related items.

Beans? The can was upside down. Was that significant?

The three dots gave way to a text message explanation he had not considered.

“A HUGE spider crawled across the kitchen floor while I was feeding the boys this morning,” the text read. “I trapped it for you.”

“For me??” Kev replied.

“To take care of,” came her response. “When you get home.”

It’s not that she didn’t want it dead, she just didn’t want to do it herself. That responsibility had been deemed very early in their marriage to be one of the most sacred of husband-related duties. But he was already on his way to work, so she made arrangements for him to fulfill his obligation later.

Kev never understood this unnatural fear of spiders. They are generally not interested in humans. They eat other pests in the house, keeping that circle of life in balance inside their split-level universe. This need to exterminate the creatures seemed an unprovoked over-reaction to the little critters just doing their thing.

Jess did not see it that way.

All bugs were to be stamped out of existence. Literally. Especially spiders. Preferably by Kev. 

A few minutes later, as Kev’s train made its final turn into the station in the city, his phone buzzed again to announce a photo update of the spider-death-watch.

“So the boys won’t get curious and release the prisoner while I’m at work,” Jess’s follow up text explained. The portable baby gate that they had used to corral Theo when he was a puppy was now used to keep him and his adoptive canine brother Frank away from the spider.

Clever. Resourceful, thought Kev. He placed his phone in his pocket and exited the train. Overly elaborate. An arachnid death row prison.

A lot of expectation had been built in anticipation of Kev’s return home to execute the prisoner. Their dogs had been and continued to be very curious and diligent in their vigil circling the perimeter of the cell, occasionally stopping to scratch at the Pergo floor in an attempt to get to the controversial pest.

Their daughter Katie and her high school friends found the scene Snap-Chatable, marveling, laughing, then moving on to the pantry for snacks en route to Netflix in the family room. Katie had a piano lesson at six o’clock, just about the time Dad the Executioner arrived home from work. He passed Jess and Katie on their way out in the mudroom at the entrance to the garage.

“It’s all ready for you,” Jess said to Kev in lieu of a kiss hello.

The dogs were eager to greet Kev with plenty of affection as he entered the kitchen, excitedly alternating between displaying their pleasure to once again be graced with his presence and running to the prison walls to show him the new household development. Maybe he would move the fencing and allow them to scratch and sniff at this can-laden plastic box invading their turf. The small dogs, Frank, a brown, Yorkie/Pomeranian mix, just under ten pounds, and Theo, a black, Maltese/Poodle, clocking in at just over twelve, wound excitedly between his legs and over to the little prison and back again.

Kev shook his head at the scene. It was exactly as it had been portrayed electronically, yet seemed more bizarre to witness first hand. He decided to change out of his work clothes before taking care of this dirty business, returning a couple of minutes later clad in shorts and a t-shirt and sporting comfy, un-cool dad-Crocs, in case he needed to stomp the life outta something. The dogs had remained on guard and welcomed his return with wide eyes, extended tongues, and wildly wagging back sides.

“Okay. Okay, get back,” Kev said to the dogs, though not in a mean way. They obeyed but hovered close by. He moved the safety cage aside and considered his options. The most obvious was a swift pull on the plastic cage and a well-timed stomp. In the unlikely case of a miss, a second strike seemed assured success. The spider had been trapped near the center of the kitchen. Too much distance to the nearest crack or crevice for even the swiftest spidey-legs to cross before certain dad-Croc doom.

But as Kev envisioned the scamper, pop, and squish, he felt a reluctance creep into his soul. The poor thing had committed no great offense. Trespassing during the daylight seemed to be its greatest crime. And what kind of lifespan do these things have anyway? A few days? A few weeks? Even if it made it a year or two, this day it had already spent imprisoned was equivalent to an incarceration of years by human standards. Hadn’t it suffered enough?

Kev looked out the window at the beautiful, sunny summer evening. He didn’t know if a house spider could survive the outdoors, but knew that such banishment would surely be more lenient than the sole of his shoe.

He looked around the room and spied a piece of paper and a roll of scotch tape at the little desk area near the phone. With them in hand, he shooed the very interested canine duo away again and sat down on the floor in front of the prisoner.

Kev tried to slide the paper under the translucent plastic container, but the beans weighed it down too much. He set the can aside on the floor and the spider moved. He was glad to be able to see through the walls of the red tinted container so he knew exactly where the creature was at all times. This was Kev’s first realization of its size. Its body was larger than the horse flies on his grandpa’s farm. The legs easily stretched to two inches in diameter.

He tried the paper again and only managed a small corner before it stopped. Frank walked up to the can of beans and gave it a sniff. Theo walked up behind Frank and gave him a sniff. Dogs.

Kev needed to lift the container slightly but thought, It won’t take much for this critter to escape. And he’s been sitting there for hours plotting nothing else. And here’s me all comfy and cross-legged on the floor practically begging for retaliation. 

Kev gingerly, slowly, deftly lifted the plastic container with one hand while shoving the paper with the other. The spider became quite agitated or maybe it was just curious. At any rate, there was significant spidey-movement. So much so that Kev felt its body thumping against the inside of the container, mere millimeters from his hand. 

He started thinking that without the can-o-beans’ 28 ounces of downward pressure, this beast may just be able to knock over the lightweight container and escape.

Thump! Again against the side, sensing the perimeter weakness. Seeing with its many beady eyes potential freedom to further terrorize the fine female humans of the home.

Kev continued carefully shoving the paper flooring into place beneath the pesky bug’s clawed, scampering feet until finally it met the far edge of the container. Then he easily maneuvered the plastic cage to the center of the paper, creating an inch or more perimeter around the edge.

Kev unrolled a long piece of scotch tape and found instantly that this would not do at all. Way too thin, way too easily bent to produce a spider-escaping-and-crawling-up-his-arm-or-leg-and-into-his-hair-biting-biting-BITING opening. 

He placed the can temporarily back on top, just in case, and went to the drawer for duct tape. 

Four pulls and sticks and the mobile trap was secure. Kev tested the seal all the way around before lifting the little red prison, marveling at his accomplishment and getting a really close look at the monster. Kev was surprised at how hairy it was. It thumped aggressively against the side of the container that Kev was peering into, as if it were charging at him.

Wolf spider, Kev thought. Common. Harmless. Huge.

The spider was really active now. Scurrying around the cozy closed circuit like a NASCAR driver. Kev stood up and the dogs alternately jumped vertically up and down alongside him. They wanted a closer look, too. Kev transported the prisoner outside, leaving the boys inside the porch, their wet noses pressed against the glass of the door, anxious to join in whatever Kev was about to do next.

Kev moved several feet from back door, to the concrete slab at the top of the stairs leading to the basement. He laid the cage on its side, paper-side exposed. He looked around and found a good sized stick from the silver maple that was always good for providing discarded sticks in the yard. Kev placed one dad-Croc’d foot against the plastic to hold it steady and whacked the stick against the paper, a mini, spider-filled piñata, producing a small tear in the fabric. The spider didn’t immediately burst forth like Alien from a well-fed torso. Kev struck the paper again, tearing open a gaping escape hatch. 

He stood back and waited. After several seconds, the spider finally, slowly emerged. Maybe it did not trust the new environment. Maybe it had grown comfortable in its new one. It retreated back inside the plastic container.

“Seriously?” Kev said aloud.

He lightly kicked the plastic end to coax it back into freedom. That seemed to work. Kev cautiously picked up the container and shook the beast free of it. The spider stood on the concrete, multi-eyeballing Kev to see if he would finally come through with the dad-Croc after all. 

Then it scurried off into the grass. In search of dinner, no doubt. 

Bon voyage, little guy, Kev thought. And stay outta my kitchen.

Kev felt good about his leniency. Dad the Merciful had a nice ring to it. He was sure he would be called to execute some other bug soon and to do so without hesitation, just to stop the associated screaming if nothing else. But in this moment, he savored the endorphins of compassion coursing through him, producing an overwhelming need to smile.

It was then that he noticed Jess glaring at him from inside the back door, the two canine sentinels at her feet. 

###

Alternate Ending…

The spider was really active now. Scurrying around the cozy closed circuit like a NASCAR driver. Kev stood up and the dogs alternately jumped vertically up and down alongside him. They wanted a closer look, too. Kev transported the prisoner outside, leaving the boys inside the porch, their wet noses pressed against the glass of the door, anxious to join in whatever Kev was about to do next.

Kev felt good about his leniency. Dad the Merciful had a nice ring to it. He was sure he would be called to execute some other spider soon and to do so without hesitation, just to stop the associated screaming. But in this moment, he savored the endorphins of compassion coursing through him, producing an irrepressible smile.

Kev moved several feet from the back door to the concrete slab at the top of the stairs leading to the basement. Two porcelain flower pots overflowing with Jess’s prized begonias adorned each side of the landing. He laid the cage on its side against one of the pots, paper-side exposed. He looked around and found a good sized stick from the silver maple that was always good for providing discarded sticks in the yard. Kev placed one dad-Croc’d foot against the plastic to hold it steady and whacked the stick against the paper, a mini, spider-filled piñata, producing a small tear in the fabric. But the spider didn’t immediately burst forth like Alien from a well-fed torso. Kev struck the paper again, tearing open a gaping escape hatch. 

He stood back and waited. After several seconds, the spider finally, slowly emerged. It stood on the jagged edge of the torn paper opening, octo-eyeballing Kev to see if he would finally come through with the dad-Croc after all. Maybe it did not trust the new environment, maybe it had become institutionalized, either way, it retreated back inside the plastic container.

“Seriously?” Kev said aloud.

He lightly kicked the plastic end to coax it back into freedom. The spider remained inside. Kev cautiously picked up the container to shake the beast free of it. He could feel it thumping around on the inside, refusing to drop through the hole Kev had so graciously provided.

It was then that he noticed Jess standing inside the back door, the two canine sentinels at her feet.  She gave him her well-worn WTF are you doing? look. Frank barked once to punctuate her glare.

Before Dad the Merciful could explain himself, time shifted into that slo-mo mode when something horrible and unavoidable is unfolding, allowing the memory to be permanently etched with every detail of the moment. Dandelion seeds float in the air a little more slowly, butterfly wings flutter at half-speed, and the expression on Jess’s face melts from disapproval to terror. His eyes, the only mobile part of his time-frozen body, followed Jess’ gaze down the length of his extended right arm to the now sprung trap he held. The spider changed its mind, left the cage, and was quickly moving along his arm, up his shoulder, and onto his back.

It moved very, very fast.

The scream was so high-pitched, perhaps only the dogs heard it. They were both certainly reacting, barking wildly and digging at the glass bottom of the storm door to get outside. Kev assumed it was Jess screaming. She was the master of screaming at the sight of spiders and random bugs and had even made screaming disciples of their two daughters.

It was long after the “incident” before Kev acknowledged that he had been the source of the scream. In the moment (the very slow, eternally-drawn-out-for-maximum-terrorizing-effect moment), he was dancing up and down, spinning in a circle, the empty red cage flung far into the backyard. He knocked one wildly gyrating dad-Croc’d foot against one of the prized porcelain pots. It scooted back a few inches, suddenly teetering on the edge of the steps to the basement, pausing to provide Jess just enough time to notice it and think Maybe it won’t fall before gravity and fate conspired to dash that wish as easily as they did the pot.

Meanwhile, Kev had no idea where the spider was.

Did it jump or get flung from his spinning torso? Or did it slip under his collar to seek shelter within the confines of his shirt? Highly unlikely, but in the panic, Kev didn’t waste time contemplating the odds. The t-shirt was quickly torn over his head and flung equally distant as the plastic container, though on an altered trajectory.

Jess looked way from her ruined begonias to see if any neighbors, alerted by Kev’s screams, were witness to this scene. Sure enough, Mrs. Kennedy who never had a positive thing to say but was always willing to share ad nauseum nonetheless, was standing at her kitchen window, taking it all in. Kev continued to spin in place, combing wildly through his hair with both hands. He did stop screaming (if it had been him, he still wasn’t sure).

Jess opened the back door and released the hounds. Frank immediately charged to Kev’s aid. Theo made a beeline to the red container, the object that had taunted them all day. He gave it a thorough sniffing before lifting his back leg high over the torn paper side and soaked it with urine.

Frank jumping and biting at the cuffs of his shorts, shirtless Kev stopped writhing, his hands coming to rest atop his head, accurately portraying the image of What have I done?

Jess walked over to him, looked down at the broken pot, then over his shoulder to confirm that Mrs. Kennedy was still riveted. Jess waved at her to acknowledge that she knew that she knows. She turned back to Kev. “You had one job.”

Kev lowered his hands to his sides and looked down at his untainted dad-Crocs. He, too, glanced at the begonias. They had a chance of surviving, but that pot was done. He had gone from Dad the Executioner to Dad the Merciful to Dad the Destroyer.

Frank made his way to the now soiled container, gave it a proper sniff, then added his own mark. Kev decided to leave it there.  Maybe the spider would seek it out and make it his permanent residence. He crossed the yard to retrieve his t-shirt.  

Back inside the house, Kev tossed the t-shirt down the laundry shoot, opting for a fresh one…just to be safe. The t-shirt came to rest atop the pile of dirty clothes in the laundry room. Within the folds of the shirt, where it indeed crawled and clung to as it was stripped and flung, and nestled within while being transported back into the house and down into the basement, sat the spider.

It slowly made its way through tunnels of fabric to an opening where it then crawled to the edge of the basket. Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting for Jess to do a quick load before dinner.