A Spindly Battle

Look at him, mocking me.

I try to go to the gym every other day. Sometimes I miss it, but if I do I make sure to go the next day. I explain this because I think 48 hours is just about long enough for the current bane of my existence to rebuild and regroup. I cycle to the gym, and to get my bike out front I have to travel through this small tunnel down the side of our house. And that’s where he waits.

Eight legs of horror, each one clinging smugly to the arched brickwork while he waits for me to snare myself in the trap he’s layed. I can almost hear him sniggering each time I get caught, hands flaying around my hair to make sure he hasn’t come away with his home. He hasn’t yet, but he will, you mark my words. I don’t mind spiders, but I hate getting their webs on me.

The really frustrating thing about it, particularly today, is that I didn’t get caught on the way out. It was coming back, when I was tired, wet and hungry, my only thought about chugging some orange juice once I got inside. So I kept my head just high enough to reach him, but hung enough so my eyes were on the ground. It first splays over my face, and then gets all tangled in my hair. It’s a good thing I’m about to have a shower.

It’s sad though because I rather like spiders. They kill flies and keep the air clear of mosquitos to an extent. But why the hell does he have to put his web there! I know the reason why; it’s because our damn security light won’t turn off, and for some reason light is like crack to flies. So he’s created a killing field. It’s just that it’s a thoroughfare for me and my bike. I don’t think we can co-exist; our needs are just too different. Such is the fate of all who get’s in the way of man.


About Phill Cameron

I've graduated, had a look at the world, and spat. Now I'm devoting my time to moving from 3/4 of a games journalist to 9/10ths. I figure I can get away with 9/10ths.
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