My mum and I have a running tradition of placing plastic animals in unexpected places, hoping that we'll catch the other one off guard and scare the hell out of 'em. Some of the involved plastic toys include an alligator, a lizard and, my personal favourite, a disgusting and rather large spider. It should be noted that we live in Australia.
So, in conjunction with April Fools' Day, I decided to leave our plastic spider buddy in an unexpected place. The usual locations include inside her pillowcase, wrapped up in a hand towel, or in her shirt drawer (all dark places that spiders would love). As I go to place the little guy in my mum's hand towel (which, mind you, was quite damp still from use this morning in a humid bathroom) it seems there was already an eight-legged monstrosity (a big fuckin wolf spider) occupying the usual space. The bastard scurried along the towel and onto my FUCKING ARM. Of course, I begin to shake my arm violently, without regard for whether my arm remains attached to my body at this point, and the spider hits the tile and scuttles away into a vent.
So, here I am, wary of a fairly pissed off wolf spider (which probably wouldn't kill me with its bite, but fuck 'em all) crawling around in my vents, probably going to warn the rest of his spider troupe that I'm coming for them.
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