Kill It With Fire

Spiders.

I fucking hate spiders. They freak me the fuck out. Spiders are an abomination upon the face of the Earth; vile creatures from out of my darkest nightmares. Think about it. Eight hairy little legs; those beady little eyes and those giant fucking fangs that are just waiting to sink into my flesh and drink my blood. Creepy little bastards spinning their nasty little webs. Ick. Spiderwebs. I fucking hate spiderwebs, too. Although, I must admit that I do make some mighty cool looking ninja moves whenever I walk through one. Just thinking about this shit makes my skin crawl. Spiders. Yeah... fuck all that.

The gaze of pure, malevolent evil.

Let's take a closer look at these dangerous and fearsome apex predators.

There is only one way to deal with spiders and that is to kill them. Kill them with fire. I cannot state this more emphatically. It's a get them before they get you kind of thing.

It's the only way to be sure.

I killed a spider yesterday and you can bet your sweet ass that I killed that fucker with fire. It was self-defense, I swear.

It looked at me, but it was much more than that. Much more. I could see the frenzied hunger in its beady little eyes, I could sense its blood lust. It was ready to pounce... and kill and I wasn't about to become brunch. No fucking way.

Here's how it all went down...

I was out running errands the other day, doing whatever the fuck it was that I was doing, because even I don't pay attention to myself and when I got home, I walked up onto the front deck and I noticed that the large yellow spider that had attached itself to the railing a few days before was still there and I made sure to give the evil, murderous little bastard as wide a berth as I possibly could. I'd checked him out previously and he was totally fucking creepy but had a pretty cool looking translucent yellow color and he looked a lot like this:

I'd just had a conversation at work about the spiders that inhabit Washington state and I was warned that there were quite a few poisonous spiders that were hiding in dark doorways, just waiting to feast upon my flesh. My coworkers informed me that the arachnid inhabitants of my adopted state were just the usual run of spiders, such as the Black Widow, the Yellow Sac spider and a few others. Marvelous. Just fucking marvelous. I knew that I had to be ever vigilant against the ever present spider menace. 

As I made my wary way past the little bastard, I turned the corner and headed toward the back deck, taking one last look behind me to make sure that I wasn't being shadowed by any skulking spiders, which led to my tripping over the step that I always forget about and I trip over it all the fucking time, which I never forget to do (forget to trip, that is), the result of which was to cause me to stumble my way across the deck and send me flying into a spider web. I fended off an entire battalion of imaginary spiders while showing off my previously mentioned ninja skills, somehow managing to keep control of the bags that I was carrying. 

Miraculously, I didn't drop a thing. Thankfully, other than the brief fucktard ballet sequence that I had just performed, I was able to make it through the ordeal fairly unscathed. I say fairly, because while my body was uninjured, my mind was violently traumatized; shell-shocked even. I might have even become a little unhnged. Who's to say? I knew one thing, though. A war was coming; I knew it  and the spiders knew it too; those little bastards had just fired the first shot. They were stalking me, coming to get me, They were everywhere and nowhere, all at once. I was living in fear.

 I wondered how much time I had before the ruckus started.  I knew that I couldn't afford to be caught unaware. I had to be prepared. This wasn't going to be a surprise attack, like when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor. No sir. No fucking way. 

When I turned the corner and walked out onto the back deck, I put down my bags and sat down on one of the deck chairs to smoke a cigar. I put my feet up on the corner of the railing and spent a few minutes relaxing and chilling out, enjoying that last bit of summer sunshine before I went inside the house for the evening. Surprisingly, I managed to do all of these things without harming myself in any way, shape, or form and as I drew on my cigar, I released a contented sigh, appreciating the fading beauty of a late summer day. I looked out into the yard and I noticed that some of our very friendly neighborhood deer had come to visit. I stood up and walked over to the railing, calling to the deer. The doe and her fawns walked over and looked up at me expectantly, waiting for a handout. As I was talkng to them, I went to put down my cigar and my hand went through the space between the rails, punching through yet another spiderweb. Holy fucking shit! I quickly pulled my hand away, but then I was even more shocked as I felt something crawl across the back of my hand. My head snapped around and to my absolute horror there was a ginormous fucking spider crawling across my hand and headed for my arm. Let me tell you, I just about shit my pants. Oh, no. No fucking way. That motherfucker was pissed and he was out for blood. My fucking blood, Fuck that. In a reflex action, I flung the murderous little bastard away and he landed back on the railing, glaring at me with his malevolent gaze and flashing his giant fangs at me. The spider moved a step closer and lifted its front two legs. Shit just got real. My life flashed before my eyes as I realized that my time had run out and I was going to die. Let me tell you, it was a trigicomedy of errors of epic proportions and it's not like I really needed a reminder of all the stupid things that I've managed to accomplish. I snapped back to reality and came up with a plan. I had one option left and I took it. I promprtly ran around the corner of the deck and hid from the spider and buying myself a few moments of safety. 

After taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I peered back around the corner and saw that the spider was still there, patiently waiting for me to step back into its parlor, I'm really not sure that I made the best decision, because I was now in a bit of a fix, as I was trapped between two ferocious and deadly spiders that were screaming for my blood. The hunters and the hunted. My will to live was strong, I only hoped that it was stronger than a spider's hunger for human flesh.

That's the little bastard, right there,

I peered back around the corner. Shit! The little bastard was still there. Still waiting for me. I knew that it knew what I knew, there was only one avenue of escape and that was by going directly past the spider. I was well and truly fucked and we both knew it.

Yolo, motherfucker! I quickly stepped out from my hiding place and I dashed around the corner, taking the spider by surprise (he was about fifteen feet from me, but those fuckers can jump incredible distances). I ran for the sliding glass door. Okay, that's a lie, I don't run anywhere, but I did walk at a slightly faster than normal pace. We'll call that running. I made it to the door and I looked behind me. Sure enough, the spider was still there and he was ready to pounce. I opened the door and I stepped inside, slamming the door closed as fast as I could and narrowly escaping with my life. I looked through the glass and I could see the spider staring back at me. I shuddered, but then I smiled as I locked eyes with the little fucker and I gave him the finger. Spiders don't have fingers, I'll bet he was pissed. You mad, bro? Come at me now, motherfucker. 

Evidently, I must have made a bit of a commotion, as my buddy Luke came up behind me and tapped me lightly on the shoulder. Let me tell you, that fucking asshole nearly gave me a fucking heart attack. The things I said. Well, I'm now convinced that I have Tourrette's and so are the neighbors.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Luke asked me.

I pointed out the window and in my manliest voice I said,"S-sss-suh-spider!"

"And?" he asked.

"It fucking tried to kill me, dude!" I said. "Don't judge me. You don't know my fucking struggle.'

"Ooookaaay," he said, as if speaking to a lunatic. "Are you just going to stand at the door and stare at it all day?"

"No," I replied. "I'm going to kill it. Kill it with fire."

"And how do you propose doing that, genius?"

"Simple, I'm going to find an aerosol can and use my lighter and I'm going to send that demon back to the Hell from which it came."

"Whatever. I have some axe body spray in my bathroom."

Okay, number one, he was dismissing me and enabling me at the same time. Number two, Axe body spray? Really? It's like douche for guys. Funny, I can just picture Luke standing there, in a field of flowers. Whatever. Any port in a storm.

Don't judge me. I feel fresh

I went into Luke's bathroom and I looked everywhere for the can of Axe, but I couldn't find it. I looked everywhere and spent a lot of time and effort to no avail. Approximately 2.86 seconds, which is about twice as long as I usually spend looking for things.

"Dude, I can't find it." I yelled across the house.

Luke came rushing into the bathroom, giving me a look that one usually reserves for an extremely slow child or a Trump supporter.

"Are you blind and stupid?" he asked.

"Show me where it is, bitch," I said.

Luke immediately grabbed an aerosol can from the counter and said, "It's right here, you fucking idiot."

He handed me the can.

I looked at it and said, "Dude, this is Old Spice, not Axe body spray. You should have been more specific. Is Old Spice douchier than Axe?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Luke asked me.

"Never mind," I said. "I'm just thinking out loud."

Luke face-palmed himself and said, "Just get out. Get the fuck out now. Go make your fucking spider s'mores and leave me the hell alone."

Wow, PMS much? Take a pill, bitch. Whatever. I had what I needed; all of the necessary spider killing supplies were now in my arsenal.

I headed back outside, prepared to battle the great beast. I think I know exactly how St. George felt when he set out to slay the dragon. Luke was directly behind me.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" I asked him. "Why are you following me?"

"There is no fucking way in hell that I am going to miss out on watching this shit. You go right ahead and have your fun. I'm going to watch the festivities from a safe distance." he said.

Whatthefuckever. I know what I'm doing. This isn't my first spider slaying. I ignored Luke as I approached that massive, mutant monster and we locked eyes. 

I raised the can of body spray and readied my lighter. The spider charged at me like an angry bull, hungry for a matador meal. A spark and then...

I unleashed the fury of Hell.

"Fuck you, motherfucker!" I yelled in triumph as a jet of flame engulfed the spider. It's all over now, bitch. "Who's your daddy now?"

Not me, evidently.

The spider uncurled itself and charged at me again.

Oh, fuck no!

Another flick of the Bic and another jet of flame engulfed the spider in a pyrotechnic display that truly warmed my heart. I eased my finger off of the trigger and looked at the spider.

It fucking twitched.

I fired again. No, it was more than that. I fucking unloaded on that son of a bitch.

In hindsight, naybe it was a bit too much.

Luke chose that moment to start yelling for me to stop and some other nonsense about my burning down the house and shit, but it was already too late.

A giant blast of flame shot out of the can, incinerating the spider and burning all of the hair off of the back of my right hand. One thing that I've failed to mention until now is that Luke likes to keep his parakeet, Hedwig, outside during the day. Hedwig saw that third ball of flame erupt and was immediately like, "Fuck this, I'm outta here," as he quickly hopped over to the other side of his cage. Smart fucking bird. I looked at the charred remains of the spider and I congratulated myself on a job well done. I left that fucker's corpse where it was as a warning to the other spiders not to fuck with me.

Luke walked up to me and told me that he thought I was insane, that I wasn't allowed to do it again and that I needed to give hime back his Axe body spray, immediately.

"It's Old Spice, dude. You need to be more specific."

Luke's face turned an interesting shade of purple and he once again threatened to get his gun. I handed him the spider killing spray, giggled and walked off. 

I was curious about what kind of spider it was, so I went back inside and I searched for images of spiders in Washington state. This is what I found:

As it turns out, the spider on the front deck was a Yellow Sac Spider (a venomous spider) and the spider that I incinerated on the back deck was a Mazda Spider, a new species of venomous spider that was discovered in 2011, but only after it was imported into the United States, hidden away inside of the fuel lines of Mazda vehicles. Mazda eventually instituted a recall of 65,000 vehicles. That's a lot of fucking spiders and now there was one less. Survival of the fittest, baby. I'm saving the planet, one arachnid at a time.

End of story, right? Don't I wish...

Apparently, all that did was piss the other spiders off.

When I came home from work the next day, everyone was in the kitchen and those crazy fuckers were acting strangely. They were either cowering and cringing, or doing some sort of strange interpretive dance. I wasn't really sure, but since they're all family, I just assumed that it was some weird sort of group bonding therapy. As I walked through the door, everyone said, "Watch out for the spider!"

Oh, hell to the no, motherfucker.

My worst fears had been realized, the invasion had begun. I wasn't scared though, I was ready, Bring it, bitches!

"Where is it?" I asked.

Everyone pointed at the ceiling and I looked up. It was hard to miss. That was one big ass fucking spider.

Unlike the Mazda spider, I immediatey recognized this one; it was a Brown Widow, yet another venomous spider. Great. Just fucking great. These fuckers were sending their heavy hitters after me. No worries. After all, I am the supposedly superior species. I quickly assessed the situation and briefly wondered what weapon I was going to use to kill it, because fire is not always the best option for use indoors.

Suddenly, inspiration hit me and I knew what I had to do.

No, I didn't shoot the spider, that woud be overkill. Besides, Luke wouldn't let me use his pistol. Something about laws and resposibility abd some other nonsensical bullshit. I filtered him out. Instead, I grabbed a paper towel, balled it up and climbed up on one of the barstools. It proved to be a more unstable platform than I had originally thought, so I shifted one of my legs over to another barstool, straddling them both. This proved just as unstable, so I asked Luke's son Lyle to hold onto the chairs in order to keep them balanced.

Just as I was reaching to squash the spider, Lyle erupted with an, "Oh, my God," which startled me so much, I almost fell off of the damn barstools.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I asked him.

"Steve, can you turn the other way?" he answered me. "Your balls are in my face."

"Why are you staring at my balls, Lyle?'

"I can't help myself." he said "They're right in my face."

"Well, stop staring at my balls and don't get any funny ideas; I am so not going to tea bag you."

"I'm going to let you fall," Lyle threatened.

"And I'm going to kill you in your sleep if you don't shut the fuck up and hold on to those chairs. Oh, and Lyle, one last thing."

"What?" he asked. He sounded a little irritated. I think he might have had some sand in his mangina.

"Please stop staring at my balls. You're making me uncomfortable."

Lyle grumbled something under his breath, but then he shut the fuck up and held on to the barstools. Good boy. I pretended not to hear him, because then I really would have had to kill him in his sleep and I'm not sure how Luke would have reacted to that. I'm sure if I just explained that Lyle was being inappropriate with me, I'm sure he'd understand. Yeah, no worries.

I wadded up the paper towel, reached out and squashed the spider. I heard it pop. It was fucking gross. I climbed down and threw the spider in the trash.

Kind of anticlimactic, huh? That's okay, I could use a little less excitement in my life, because the very next day...

I stepped out onto the back deck, stretched and took a deep breath. As I was doing this, I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. My eyes were drawn to the deck railing, where I saw yet another Yellow Sac Spider. 

They were getting smarter and were trying to sneak a little one past me, but I had gotten lucky and sprung their ambush before they were ready. I kept my eyes on the spider, waiting for him to make the first move. It didn't take long.

The little spider had been acting pretty nonchalantly up until this point, but then it turned and started heading in my direction. Son of a bitch! It was going to attack. That little motherfucker had some seriously big balls and I was about to deflate them like Tom Brady at a Super Bowl. I quickly checked the area, scanning for other spiders, just in case this was a diversion and they were planning to mount a sneak attack from another direction. You just can't trust those sneaky fuckers. Nothing. It was just him and me, mano a mano. I smiled, reached into my pocket and pulled out my lighter. This battle was going to be up close and personal. 

I took a step toward my opponent and flicked my Bic, A small jet of flame shot out and hit the spider head on. Death came quickly. One little sucker punch and my opponent was soundly defeated. The carcass fell onto the deck where I promptly stepped on it. #byefelicia

I immediately decided to go after the larger Yellow Sac Spider on the front deck and I set off upon my quest. An extensive and exhaustive search of the front deck failed to yield any clues as to the whereabouts of the spider. He had completely disappeared and I'm convinced that he's hiding somewhere in the house, biding his time and waiting for a chance to kill me. I must remain vigilant.

For now, there seems to be an uneasy truce, but the war could flare up again at any minute. I'm ready, I'm waiting. Bring it, bitches!

Some Interesting Things That I Learned While Researching Spiders For This Story

 Men keep the world safe from the spider menace.

You can keep spiders away by spraying peppermint oil around your house.

The truth about Spiderman.

The truth about the itsy bitsy spider.

A little something for you to think about...

Fuck that. I'm buying surface to air missiles.

Before you go to sleep tonight, I want you to think about this story and what you would do if you woke up in the middle of the night to find a spider in bed with you. Sweet dreams.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you had fun.

If you enjoyed reading this story, please give this one a chance:

If the Shoe Fits

You can also read more about my friend Luke, here:

They Call It Mellow Yellow

Win an XM42 Handheld Flame Thrower!!!

Who wouldn’t want their own handheld flamethrower? It's the ultimate spider killing machine and you could be the first kid on your block to own one. I know that I absolutely positively have to have one and you need one too, but you can't have mine. I need to be prepared for the coming end times, the Spiderpocalypse. You've been warned.

Thanks to the fine folks over at Controversial Times, your lust for pyromania can take on new life. For a chance to win one of your own, just click here. Now go out there and burn some shit down.

Dirty Birds

One bird to shit on them all. Fuck your team.

American football, like cheating, is one of the things that makes America great, because 'Murica! Hell, cheating is as American as apple pie and hating the Dallas Cowboys.

It's football season and I fucking love football. What can I say? I like to watch grown men beat the living shit out of each other. As a matter of fact, I don't think it's violent enough and it would be even better if we allowed the use of edged weapons, but that's not what we're here to talk about today. I'm not really into watching other professional sports (except surfing, I could watch that shit all day and sex, because sex is the ultimate sport even if I never get to play), 

Dear Puppet Villian, It's latter, not later, you illiterate motherfucker.

but I do love to watch football and by that I mean that I like to watch the Philadelphia Eagles play. And win. You know, when they can actually manage to do that. Win, I  mean

Now, I know that you're probably telling yourself that the Eagles suck and that's alright, because you're delusional and because fuck you, even if you are mostly right, but they're my hometown team and my favorite, so win or lose, no matter how bad they suck, I'll always be a loyal fan, even if I always bet money against them when it comes to a big game, because you can always count on the Eagles to blow the big game.

I'd briefly like to mention that the Eagles do share the state of Pennsylvania with another team, the Pittsburgh Steelers. They're barely even worth the mention.

As we all know, the NFL has a few teams that are named after birds, but there's only one bird that really matters and that's the Eagles. The Eagles, Iggles, Birds, whatever you want to call them are the kings of the NFL's little bird kingdom.

Let's examine some of these "birds." In no particular order (except alphafuckingbetical, because I have OCD), we'll start with the Arizona Cardinals.

Cardinals? Seriously? Little lame ass red birds that don't even have the fucking sense to fly south in the winter. Fail.

 Your God has abandoned you.

Next up, we have the Atlanta Falcons. I must admit that I do like falcons as a species and I'd love to own a hunting falcon, but anything that comes from Atlanta is absolute shit. Remember, this is the city that gave us Michael Vick (please don't point out any inconvenient facts, they're not a part of the narrative). Nothing good comes from Atlanta and that's why Atlanta was destroyed during the civil war. Because 'Murica, goddammit! 

With all of these facts, theory and history, I feel like a fucking PBS station and yes, you are welcome for the education. I'm just magnanimous like that. Send a donation to my PayPal account. I promise not to waste it on good deeds or any other shit like that. Unlike Congress, I promise to waste your money wisely.

That is such a fucking lame logo.

Let's talk a little more about those Atlanta Falcons...

Last night, I finally had a chance to sit down and watch an entire Eagles game. I was stoked. I sat my ass down. I had my pillow, the softest and most comfortable blanket in the world, and a little something extra to mellow me out. A couple of snorts of some blackberry moonshine and I was nice and relaxed. I turned on the game, put my feet up and was forced to watch the Eagles basically hand the game over to the Falcons during the first half. When halftime was over and the two teams once again took the field, it seemed as if the Falcons had lost all momentum as Eagles quarterback Sam Bradford and running back Demarco Murray dominated the field. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough and their effort fell short, ending with a missed field goal and Bradford's final pass of the game was intercepted. The final score was Atlanta 26, Philadelphia 24. It's only week one, so it desn't mean much, still, fuck the Falcons. 

Seriously? That bird has tits!

And then there's the Baltimore Ravens. Fuck those guys. Is there any player on that team that hasn't been charged with a crime? Listen, can you hear that? That's the sound of the men working on the chain gang,

Ravens are actually pretty cool littl black birds with some giant fucking balls, but Baltimore Ravens aren't really ravens at all, they're Browns that ran out on the city of Cleveland. In their defense, however, I'd run the hell out of Cleveland too.Who wouldn't? It's fucking Cleveland. Fuck that place. As you can see (please follow my twisted logic, I really hate explaining things more than once), because the Baltimore Ravens are really the Cleveland Browns, they're really not ravens at all and since ravens are cool and they're not ravens, they're totally uncool and since they're not ravens, they're not really birds at all, so they don't fucking count, so fuck Baltimore. Fuck Cleveland, too. Can't forget to fuck Cleveland too. 

Cleveland, lol. It's where quarterbacks go to die. Right, Johnny?

Eagles eat Ravens. Nuff said.

There's one bird left in our flock, the Seattle Shit, er, Seahawks. What the fuck is a Seahawk, anyway? Seahawks fans can't tell you because there's no such fucking thing as a Seahawk. It's a fucking Osprey, but I guess Seahawks fans are just too fucking stupid to spell Osprey, so I'm guessing that's why they went with the Seahawks moniker instead.

The other day I told a little girl that she looked as pretty as a princess. She was wearing a Seahawks jersey. I hate lying to kids like that, but if I had told her tthe truth, that she was ugly and looked mildly retarded, her father would have kicked my ass. Sometimes, discretion truly is the better part of valor. Besides, I would never say something like that to a child, even if they are a Cowboys fan. Well, I might not be able to control myself if the kid is a Cowboys fan.

Originally, this story was only goig to include this part, but I started rambling along and heading off on different tangents and it just grew and grew. If I haven't insulted your team in this post, don't worry, because I think they suck too. Only the Eagles can suck and still achieve the status of legend.

A few days ago, I had to pick my friend Luke's (remember Luke? he's my co-star in The Call It Mellow Yellow) kid up from work and give him a ride home. I accidentally took the wrong exit off of the interstate, but there was a McDonald's there, so I covered up my mistake by saying that I wanted a sweet tea and offered to buy the kid a drink. As I pulled up to the drive thru window, the cashier was already leaning out of the window to hand the drinks over. I reached out and to my horror, I saw that the cups were emblazoned with the logo of the much loathed Seattle Seahawks "decorating" the side of the cup. Much too quickly, the first cup made contact with my outstretched hand and while in the grip of paralyzing terror, I "accidentally" dropped the cup and it exploded on the ground below.

"Sorry," I said. 

God, I'm such a dick, sometimes. Okay, most times. Okay, okay, I'm a dick all of the time. Happy now?

I asked the cashier if maybe they had the regular styrofoam cups for the sweet tea, but he told me that no, they didn't carry them because they weren't environmentally friendly (and plastic is?) and that this was the state of Washington where people are dope smoking, tree hugging hippies. Personally, I think that motherfucker was lying to me, but there wasn't much that I could do about it. I think he was on to me. Fucking Seahawks fans.

The cashier grabbed a new cup of tea and handed the cups over to me. I certainly didn't want to touch them and I thought about dropping them again, Reluctantly, I took the cups and handed them over to the kid. I needed to wash my hands; I felt soiled from having had to touch the vile things.

We got back to the house and I made the kid carry the drinks upstairs. There was no way that I was going to touch that damn Shithawk again, no fucking way. When we got inside, I made him pour my tea into a glass for me, refusing to drink out of a Shithawk cup. I guess I'll be making my own fucking sweet tea for the rest of the season. Besides, they can't get it right here; making sweet tea is an art and if you don't use enough sugar, it sucks, just like your football team.

So, not much of a story, maybe more of a rant, but if nothing else, I want you to take away one little thing from our little chat today:

YOUR TEAM SUCKS!

Thanks for stopping by!

If you enjoyed this post, give this one a chance:

If the Shoe Fits