This morning I was, getting ready for work when I looked up and saw a fairly large spider sliding down from the ceiling. I wasn't scared of the thing, but have been bitten before, I figured I'd rather not have it in my bathroom.
The problem was that I was in mid shower. So, I started flicking water up at it. After several attempts, I succeeded in forcing him to beat a retreat back up his strand. Only after about 3 or 4 inches back upwards, his resolve stiffened, and he started back down. I returned to flicking water again in between trying to finish my shower. It was: wash, flick-flick, rinse, flick-flick... I was trying my best to keep him in the air and out of my shoes.
This was working fine until I glanced around the curtain and noticed I was soaking my fresh roll of toilet paper and peppering a book that I had just bought, not to mention the clothes I had set out to put on.
So, I finished my shower, leaned out, grabbed the Dave Chappelle edition of Esquire, rolled it up, and whacked his ass... right towards my clean clothes. I thought, "Fuck, why does this shit always happen to me?" A debate raged in my head on whether I had hit it hard enough to kill it, or just stun it, or just piss it off. Taking no chances, now running a little behind schedule, I shook the hell out of all of my clothes before I put them on.
So far, I haven't felt any bites or anything, so maybe Chappelle got the job done.
