However, in the ancient civilizations, nature has not been idle. Faced with an imposition of human will, she has battled back, creating stronger and more powerful breeds. In this environment one must be prepared for anything…
The train rocked gently on the tracks as it sped through the early morning gloom. The taste of stale cigarettes and staler women lingered unpleasantly in my mouth. The unsavoury events of the night before nagged the back of my mind, but were so used to being ignored that their pitiful protests soon faded out, leaving only the rhythmic thumping of my hangover to keep me company. Leaving the station I trudged north to my place of employment, Sano High School. This early in the morning its age of 106 years was apparent. The water tower perched on top looked down like the Eye of Sauron and the river flowing in front of the wall was a sinister black moat. As I pushed open the gate, the un-oiled hinges announced my presence to all… the two-legged and otherwise.
Winding my way through the dim hallways I slid open the door to the office. As is my custom, I had arrived early and busied myself for the day’s tasks. I started my morning routine of simple chores: flicking on the lights, checking my message box, and unlocking the copy room. I then turned towards the sink I realized I had not yet filled up the hot water pots. With my mind slowly getting into gear in regards to the day’s lesson, I threw open the faucets and dropped one of the two jugs into the sink. In my sorry state the half eaten cockroach should surely have raised alarm bells, but it didn’t. Thus, the next words out of my mouth were
A giant Spider, easily 8 inches in diameter JUMPED out of the drain and raised it’s forelegs in a monstrous show of aggression. My sorry condition instantly evaporated as I sprang backwards, landing on a desk with the balls of my feet. Throwing up my hands I quickly deflected the two hot jets of poison that the Spider slung towards my eyes. I rolled backwards and took up a defensive position behind a long row of desks. With my heart exploding in my chest, I risked detection by peering around the corner. Although the Spider was at the bottom of the sink, I could still see the tips of its legs waving above the rim. As I continued to watch, they slowly disappeared from view and the immediate danger was over.
What to do now. Eighty episodes of McGuyver ran through my head as I repeatedly whispered the mantra “What would Richard Dean Anderson do?”. Then, from the most unlikely source, I got inspiration.
God. He watches over his wayward son in the greatest time of danger. Remembering my Sunday-school days, the story of the great flood washed through my mind, bringing with it a tide of inspiration. I knew now what I had to do. Hitting the ground for a marine crawl, I made my way to the cabinet beside the sink. My heart resumed its spastic condition and my hands shook. Reaching up I plugged in the remaining pot, and quickly repositioned myself as the element warmed the remaining contents. I now understood my mission. I was God’s mercenary, and he acted through me. With the realization of my divine patron, my confidence grew and I stood up. The Spider saw me and raised its limbs again; however it now sensed my newfound power and backed down quickly. I glanced at the pot to gauge its progress, and eight eyes followed mine. Fate was at fifty degrees.
As the pot ticked, so did the inevitable. The Spider was no longer on the offensive, but was instead scrambling to gain purchase on the wet sides of the stainless steel sink. In its panic, the legs failed to grip, and it fell backwards onto the drain cover. Infused with celestial power, I strode forth and checked the temperature. At a blistering 98 degrees it was time. I unplugged the pot and popped open the lid. The squeals from the Spider were lost with the righteous chorus ringing in my ears. Holding the pot above my head, I gave proper blessing to the execution:
The payload was tipped, and a rush of boiling fury enveloped the Spider, cooking its insides into paste and causing spasms in its limbs. Turning on the faucet once again, I washed the remains of the spider and its cockroach breakfast down the drain. As I looked up, panting with the thrill of victory, I saw a sliver of the sun breach the horizon. A new day was born. Behind me the door to the office slid open, and my senior teacher came in. Without revealing the morning’s trials, I mumbled a simple ohayo gozaimasu and went about the rest of my day.
This entry dedicated to my cat Ernie, who for 16 years was the greatest spider hunter of them all. RIP. Also dedicated to exalted, who fails to realize the inability to effectively kill a spider also neuters his opportunity to mate in this lifetime.