To Kill a Black Widow…
Based on a true story and told in the first person by Betsy, by Philip Codington…
It was a late Tuesday night. I had just returned from a long ten hour closing shift at Panera Bread, and I was beat. I rolled into the driveway around 11:00 p.m., opened the garage door, turned off my headlights, and walked inside. Bookshelves packed with books on Christian living lined two-thirds of the back wall of the garage, while a few stray bikes and boxes littered the floor. I slowly climbed the tedious stairs to go inside.
I walked into the kitchen, took off my Panera hat and nametag, and plopped myself down into the nearest chair. On the table was a post-it note I had written as a reminder earlier that day… Take the box of coffee-makers and old dishes to Good Will before going to work.
Uhh… I had forgotten. I stood up, walked to the door, slipped my flip-flops on, and walked back down the stairs I had mounted a mere seven minutes earlier. There were two boxes filled with old dishes and a few coffee makers sitting near the garage door. I looked at them and then grabbed one to move it closer to the door… in the small hopes that I might remember it the next morning…
As I grabbed one of the torn cardboard flaps, a small black spider disappeared from a web behind one of the chipped bowls. “I hate spiders,” I thought to myself. I turned the bowl over to try and find the stowaway. As I did, a bright red hourglass caught my attention…this wasn’t just a spider. It was a black widow.
I panicked! I ran inside and frantically tried to call someone… anyone. I dialed my brother’s number…no answer. I tried Alamo’s number. He didn’t pick up. I tried Justin’s number… (ring, ring) “hello?” he said.
“Justin, this is Betsy here! How do you kill a black widow?!” I half-shouted and demanded, still out of breath from the stairs. “I was moving a box in the garage and just found one!”
“Umm, well… (half chuckling to himself) do you have shoes on?” he asked. “No, but I can get them!” I said. “Do you have a little broom or dustpan?” he again asked. “I’m sure I can find one. Why?”
(Trying to contain the laughter building up inside him) “Go get your shoes on, grab the broom, sweep it onto the ground, and… (drum roll, drum roll) …STEP on it!” he said with a smirk. “Is that all? What if it bites me? I’ll die in the garage and no-one will ever know what happened,” I worriedly said. “If it happens to bite you, hit re-dial on your phone, I’ll call 911, and we’ll save you. Ok?” he reassured. “Ok,” I said only half-convinced…
I hung up the phone while my mind was running in circles. I quickly grabbed a jar from the pantry, ignoring Justin’s fresh words advising me to grab a broom. I ran back into the garage to find the spider. A good ten minutes later, I emerged victorious with a jar, a trapped black widow, and a lid that would have been hard for even Schwarzenegger to unscrew.
I re-dialed Justin’s number, while typing google.com into the web browser.
(Ring, ring, ring) “Do I need to call 911?” Justin calmly and half-jokingly answered. “No, i’m fine. I’m looking on google right now, trying to find out how to kill a black widow…” I said.
“Are you serious? Betsy, just step on it. It’s a spider.” Justin said in disbelief. “But isn’t there a special way you need to kill it? Will it die if I step on it? What if its poison gets on me?”
“Well if you really want to and if it makes you feel better, you could get some rubbing alcohol or gasoline and light it on fire!” Justin exclaimed. “Ok, i’ll figure it out. Thanks, Justin,” I ended.
I ran upstairs and grabbed some cotton swabs and rubbing alcohol from the bathroom cabinet. I hurried back down to the kitchen, carefully and painstakingly removed the tightly sealed lid, and dropped a doused cotton swab on top of the helpless black widow. I quickly resealed the lid while expectantly waiting for the unavoidable death. I waited…
With an air of defiance, the black widow climbed atop the cotton swab, and seemed to glare at me from its glassy cage, as if declaring that I had failed in my attempt to end its life. Out of utter frustration with a touch of fear, I grabbed the bottle of rubbing alcohol and doused the spider itself… if the fumes would not end its evil presence, than surely the sheer amount of liquid would suffocate it.
I was right…
Published on 1 Sep 2007 at 10:37 pm.
5 Comments.
Filed under A Day in the Life, Family.
Hilarious, Philip! Good job–I’d give you an A!!
Mom
LLC on 1 Sep 2007 at 11:00 pm.
haha you’re such a dork! i love it, though! ….this is something i would have done….glad i’m not the only one, apparently =D
Olivia on 1 Sep 2007 at 11:12 pm.
Hey Philip,
Such a blessing to see a teen that has such a passion for God & family. Great photos!
Zach Thompson on 2 Sep 2007 at 8:41 pm.
hey Philip. I was looking back over e-mails from the past year and came upon the one with your blog site. Having a few minutes to spare, I clicked on it. As I read the story of Betsy and the black widow, laughter overcame me. What a mind picture. We miss seeing you guys! Hope school is going well this fall.
Linda A.
Linda Ackerson on 19 Sep 2007 at 1:04 pm.
I just found a black widow spider today at my front door, and was not going to smash it (yes step on it) until I saw the red spot. It about freaked me out, I have only seen one once before. I was petrified, I didnt hesitate, I stepped on that thing so fast, all that is left is a mark! They will bite and they will send you to the hospital from what I understand!
Joanne on 23 Jun 2008 at 5:21 pm.