Well, it's that time again in what is laughingly refered to the Midwest
States (although technically, the midwest is about Nebraska to the
Rockies). It's getting warmer, the lawns are just about ready for the
first sheering, and even the Amish are starting to not wear coats.

Spring weather is quickly approaching, and with it come the people
cleaning out the heaters, the chimneys, and putting up Eviction notices
for the moths in the boxes of summer clothing.

Or, in my case, spiders.

As a young boy growing up just a bit more North than where I currently
live, I can say that the seasons did not permit spiders to grow to such
size that they are likely to steal a hamburger off of your plate. In the
backwoods of Kentucky, however, it seems that not only are they quite
large, but they also have a very good Union. When I opened a box of
assorted shorts and t-shirts this past week, a Union Representative
scurried up my arm and made quite a good arguement for the continued use
of the box as a residence. The only saving grace was that as I screamed
and fell backwards, arms flailing about, no one was there to see it. The
bad part was that the attic door was open and as I fell backwards, I
went through that part of the attic floor that was now a Hole of Doom. I
lay there stunned for a couple of seconds, just so I could give my body
enough time to send a damage report to my brain. Sadly, my brain had
decided that damage or no, it was not going to lay idly by while a
multi-legged slap-in-the-face of all that is cute-n-cuddly found various
parts of my anatomy to hide in.

After I recoverd my footing, I did that weird sort of dance that most
people do after running into a spiders web. In other words, my arms and
legs went into Automatic Anti-Spider mode, and if witnessed by someone
that doesn't know you just ran into a web, can cause some odd responses.
Calling 911, for instance.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"Yeah...this guy...he was just walking down the street....and he just
lost it...started screaming...I think he's having a seizure or
something...he keeps screaming to get it off of him...he might be
hallucinating...better bring a tazer or something."

So it was for the better then that it happened in my attic. It wasn't
better, however, that I was dealing with what was the arachnid
equivilant of a Wooly Mammoth, and not something relatively harmless
like a web. No, this was the true webmaster. The eater of all it
surveys. And at that moment it was somewhere on my body.

Before I get to the end, I want the reader to understand something. This
wasn't a spider like you might find trying to hide in the upper corner
of the bedroom. No, that's almost cute by comparison. The spider I was
dealing with was a wolf spider, and it was about the size of my hand.
This isn't something you squash with your foot. This is something you
throw spears at. If it was a docile little corner spider, I might have
asked if it wanted a beer and we could sit back and watch MythBusters.
As it was, it was attacking me with such verocity that I believe it
meant to drag me into the box with it so the tenants of said box might
have enough food for the next winter.

So, the thing about wolf spiders, besides being covered in nasty looking
fur, is that they are also quite fast. I mean fast. It is difficult to
outrun one, either in order for you to kill it or in this case in order
to save oneself from being pursued.

I found the spider by feeling its weight on the back of my pants leg. I
lost all sense of pride and went into Fight-or-Flight. I did all that I
could do, which at that point was scream in much the same way as I did
back when I was in Kindergarten getting beat up by a rather large girl
(long story). For some reason I jumped forward. I can't recall why,
exactly, but at the time I also didn't recall a wall being in my flight
path.

The spider fell off, and ran towards me. It hit the staircase and went
back into the attic. For my part, I had enough sense to fold the
staircase and close the door in record time.

After I calmed down a bit, I went shopping for a new set of summer
clothes, a new 4 x 8 sheet of paneling, and some bug bombs. I intend to
set them off tomorrow.

But judging from previous experience, I'll come home from work and he'll
be sitting in my chair, smoking the bug bomb, and telling me to get him
a beer out of the fridge.

Hope he likes MythBusters.

~Gangrel

Well hello, there!

As we take our little tour of what we laughingly refer to as "The
Friendly City", I would like to remind everyone to keep their hands and
feet inside the bus at all times, and please to not feed the animals any
beer. Trust me, they'll follow you home.

Now, if you'll look to your left, you'll notice this towns only claim to
fame, which is based on a dime store. That's it. There's no joke. A dime
store is the towns major employer.

If you care to look to your right, the first thing you'll notice is
trees. Many, many wonderful trees. If you look closely enough, you'll
also notice several people in camo with rifles. These are indiginous to
this area, and shouldn't cause you any trouble unless you shout out the
words "Dale", "Pick-Up", or the aforementioned "Beer".

As we move along in what is quickly becoming a very depressing tour,
you'll also notice the lack of stop lights. That's because the dead
center of this town is a four way stop. That's right...Downtown has four
stop signs...not that anyone ever uses them, seeing as most seem to have
gotten their drivers licenses by sending in box-tops from grits.

You'll also notice the incredible amount of traffic. How this is
possible is beyond me, but NASA gave up studying it long ago, simply
saying "Huh...weird." Where anyone could possibly be going to in this
town was a mystery that was featured in a 1987 episode of Unsolved
Mysteries, and only one person called in to say that they were going for
more beer, since it's a dry county.

Another thing you'll notice is the vast amount of churches. Given the
ratio of churches to population, then each church must have a
congregation of less than a single person, which might get messy. Again,
I have no idea how this is accomplished, but then again, it's a
church...so anything is possible.

Next come the Car Mechanics. Yes indeed...there are Car Mechanics as far
as the eye can see. Now, you're about to ask "Why so many?" Well, the
best guess is that each person in this town has their own personal Car
Mechanic, thereby making the numbers even out. It's been suggested by
some Conservationist groups that it might be a good idea to cull the
herd a bit, so as not to damage the natural vehicular ecosystem; but
this was ruled out since most of them don't actually seem to know what
they are doing anyway.

Also, as we get into what I laughingly refer to as the "rural" part of
town, you'll notice many...many...MANY satellite dishes. Not the little
tiny ones, either. No...we're talking 7' Mesh or bigger. Seriously, I
thought I had walked into the movie "Contact" before I realized this was
going to last longer and be more boring, at which point I developed a
nervous twitch in my frontal lobe.

Well, that's about the end of the tour, and I know you're just as happy
as I am about it. On a final note, I have to say that I do seem to be
the only single person in this one-horse, backwoods, yee-hawing town.
When you do return to civilization, please send a date down here.

...I have beer.

~Gangrel

Ummm...10. Just....wow.

^^ is too young to have bad luck getting dates. Has a nice view from
his yard.

~Gangrel