So, fuck spiders, right?
My earliest recollection of anything arachnid-related dates back to hearing the classic Eensie Weensie Spider song in kindergarten.
Haha, nah, not really.
There was, however, an incredibly creepy, wooden, spider-shaped slide for kids at my local shopping centre.
Who thought that was a good idea?
Let’s make a slide!
Ooh! What kind of slide?
Let’s make it a spider slide!
Living in Britain meant the first spiders I came into contact with were money spiders.
You know, those tiny little red-legged fucks.
Tiny little red-legged fucks everywhere.
When I was in Primary School I would help my Dad with the odd weekend landscaping job.
We would go visit other people’s houses and turn their dilapidated gardens into a beautiful works of art.
During this time I discovered house spiders.
Those bastards were gigantic. Ever since then I’ve been terrified of anything with eight legs.
As a village bumpkin kid who loved exploring stuff like forests and sheds, spider webs were always so high up in the nooks and crannies, with glistening web’s eight-legged artist always glaring down at me.
Perhaps it was because they were always in the corner of my eye, but never had the guts to face me directly.
Perhaps it was the way they moved. Scurrying along floors and across windowsills, never giving me a chance to really see them, making them feel more alien than whatever was on the X-Files that evening.
Or perhaps it was the way they would dangle over my beloved swing set, as if saying:
Yeah, nah, fuck you kid, this is mine now. Everything the web touches is my kingdom.
As I got older, I would occasionally meet people who loved spiders.
No, yeah, spiders are great!
They would say.
They eat all the other shitty bugs!
But to me, flies and mosquitoes are just annoying dicks.
Spiders are terrifying.
Present day, Japan.
I decided to put my Dad’s gardening techniques to use and clean up the area behind my dilapidated village house.
Some brainiac that lived here before me thought it would be neat to pile up a bunch of rocks in the middle of the patio for some reason.
I knocked over the pile and all of a sudden
Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head.
Black ones, white ones, even those tiny little red-legged fucks from my childhood, scurrying around my feet and all over my arms.
I lost it.
Tears, sweat, three cans of poison and two vacuum bags later I had successfully committed spider genocide.
From that day onwards, I occasionally see the odd arachnid dangling from my computer cables, flitting between doorways or hiding behind my clock.
Sure, they still creep me out, but nowhere near as much as a before.
Still scream like a little girl when one crawls into bed with me though.