The bandicoot book series

Short Stories -
     about Australian Animals

Arachnid Ambush

I was working on a story, fingers flying over the keyboard, when something caught my eye. I looked to the right and saw something like a small grey hand twiddling its fingers.

I stopped typing and sat quietly, eyes fixed on the thing. It was not a small grey hand, it was a big grey huntsman spider. It appeared to be tap-dancing on the corner of my desk between the organiser and the wall.

I considered my options. If you squash something that big it makes a mess. Your desk is covered with spider nougat and you have those thrashing legs to contend with. If you only injure the beast, you just make it mad, and nobody wants to be trapped in a small space with an angry arachnid.

The spider ran up the side of my pencil holder, a small pine box. With great care, I picked up the box and began to carry it outside, there to decant the spider.

The spider had other ideas, and came swarming up the back side of the box, through the forest of pencils and right towards my fingers. I dropped the box on the floor. Everything in it scattered, and the spider hot-footed it towards the bookcase.

I shoved the desk chair aside: I had to beat the beast to the bookcase--once there, she'd vanish and I'd never find her. Every time I wanted a book, I'd have to worry about the monster spider lurking in there.

I grabbed my spider trapping gear (a wine glass and a Jaye Radisich fridge calendar) and crouched in front of the bookcase. The spider ran along the floor, up onto the bottom shelf and headed for a Lever-arch file.

I slapped the wine glass sideways against the spider, but the bottom shelf stuck out further than the file, so the spider was able to slip free and put her hairy feet on my wrist. Ugh!

She rang along to another file. I now had a slightly better angle and came in horizontally with the wineglass. Just as I clapped the it over the spider, she reached the finger hole on the file. Stuffing herself inside it, she waved her toes at me. She couldn't turn around and run further into the file, but neither could I slide the piece of card under the glass and trap her.

When it comes to thinking on one's feet, spiders have a natural advantage of 8 to 2. All we humans have going for us is greater strength.

I grabbed the top of the file and pulled it out, simultaneously giving it a thump.

The spider fell out through the spine of the file and landed with an audible 'plop' on the floor a few inches below. I clapped the wine glass over her and held it firmly in place.

Of course, in my haste to get the spider, I'd left the other half of the patented spider catcher on the floor just out of reach. I couldn't quite reach it without letting go of the wine glass. And the wineglass was unstably balancing between the carpet and the floor. If I stopped holding the glass down, my hairy friend would ooze out from under and I'd be back where I started with the added handicap of now having a horrific cramp in my left calf.

At this point it would have been almost bearable to have one of the family turn up and stand in the doorway laughing at me before handing me the cardboard calendar. No such luck: they were all away, and all I had for company was a cat, who wandered in to see what the fun was.

The spider was now extremely angry. She reared up and waved her front four legs at me, and exposed a scary set of fangs. She started fishing around in the gap between the rug and the floor, looking for something to grab onto. The cat thought this was an invitation to play, and began patting the spider's feet. Trying to push the cat out of the way, I let go the glass and it tipped over.

Fortunately, the spider ran the wrong way, further into the bowl of the glass, and without thinking I clapped my hand over the top.

OK, maybe this isn't the best strategic move I've made this week. Now I'm on the floor with a spider in a wine glass, my naked flesh stopping the mouth of the wine glass, a cramp in my leg and a cat who has decided to get into my lap.

Groaning, I inch my way towards the dropped calendar. Now there's another difficulty: how can I pick up the calendar and slide it between my hand and the wineglass's mouth?

All that's preventing the spider from getting a mouthful of my hand is the fact that I've got the palm stretched taut across the glass. If I stop holding the stem of the glass in order to pick up the calendar, I'll have to relax my other hand and curl my fingers to hang on to the top of the glass. The spider will either escape or find a way to sink its fangs into me.

If I can just keep the tension on my palm somehow--OK, suppose I set the wineglass on the floor, maintaining the pressure, but without pushing too hard and snapping it off and driving it through my hand?

Gingerly, I set the wineglass down. I manage to grab the calendar and slip it between my palm and the glass. I then try to massage the cramp out of my calf, while pushing the cat out of my way.

Miffed, the cat leaps up onto the desk chair, which, being a swivel chair, does what comes naturally. Which knocks a folder off the desk. Which falls onto the wineglass and tips it over. Which frees the surprised spider who heads for the door at the speed of light. Which galvanises the cat into action…….

The last I saw of the parade, the spider was headed for the back porch with the cat in hot pursuit. I limped towards the kettle and a restorative cup of coffee. Maybe I'd put a spoonful of whisky in it. I reckon I'd earned it.


More free short stories:
Stalked by Spiders
A Sting in the Tale
Beset by Bobtails
There's a Mouse in the House
For free stories about bandicoots - please visit our diary pages.