Ahahaha this is funny

Not that I don’t understand the phobia for spiders, but uh:

An unreasonably large black spider suddenly crawled out from behind a bookcase along the wall right towards where I was sitting in the corner of my bed. All eye level and shit. I practically threw the keyboard and mouse off my lap, leaped to my feet, and stared at the fucker while indulging in some hyperventilation. It was way too big and scary too try to kill through normal means. What if I didn’t perfectly nail the hit and it scurried and maybe fell and landed on my wrist? My wrist! Where I keep my skin! More than once, I thought in panic about running to get help despite the hour, but I tried to imagine the perspective of an outsider being called into this situation. I knew that no one else would take the threat seriously. I needed weapons. 

I edged nervously towards the door, trying to judge whether it would bolt once I had gone, in which case I would be unable to end its threat and simply know that it was somewhere here in this place where I sleep at night. When I had reached and quietly opened the door, I bolted soundlessly for the kitchen, whereupon I snatched up a giant wad of paper towel and donned a pair of thick oven mitts. They reached about 3/4 of the way to my elbows. I still felt naked, but without a big suit made out of plastic I had no other immediate ideas, and I needed to return quickly before the monster returned to the shadows. 

It sat perfectly still where I had left it. Maybe it was feigning innocence. Maybe it was waiting for its chance. I considered my position. In order to make a killing strike, I would need to move quickly, and I could not do that until I had found my balance after standing upon my mattress. Kneeling would be more stable, but a retreat would be sluggish and clumsy. On the other hand, if the spider moved while I was standing, there was a decent chance that I would panic, lose my footing, and fall, possibly killing myself on the surrounding furniture. I took my chances. 

I’ve always been a man of cursed fortune, but my luck is blessed. In a crisis, I somehow manage miraculously to scrape past danger. However precarious, my balance did not falter, and my blow was true. My shielded hand stuffed the wad of paper directly upon the intruder’s form and pressed; I breathed for a moment and crumpled the edges inward so as to hold the body of my victim inside (for I could not imagine my trauma should its corpse fall onto my pillow below). 

Suddenly, an impossibly large and too-many-legged blackness ran upwards along the wall–toward my head. I flung myself backwards in reflex to flop my back upon the mattress and flip to the floor. Panting in mortal fear, I watched the unharmed beast track along the wall, back to the bookcase from whence it had come. How had it survived–and so unscathed? It must be stronger and flatter than the many other spiders I had battled over the years of this crippling phobia. I was running out of time, and I needed to be sure. 

I grabbed a long piece of cardboard, leaped onto my mattress, and slammed it directly against the damned arachnid, with my left hand holding the edge for stability and my right pressed against the surface. I heard myself cry out as I made the blow, and when my weapon met that wall my right hand was immediately aware of a bulge directly beneath it. I pressed hard with my palm, and then I quickly flipped the hand and rubbed my knuckles back and forth against the cardboard. When I had been as firm and thorough as possible, I tried to pull it back, keeping my right hand against the bulge so that the body could not fall to my bed. It was difficult to pull at the edge through the oven mitts, but I eventually got it. The spider was squished. I hastily folded its body within the cardboard and disposed of it. I was breathing and sweating heavily. There is a rounded and cracked indentation high on my wall from the killing impact. 

I killed that spider so hard that I broke the wall. I’m still pretty freaked out. 

I really don’t like spiders.