The nerve of this foul beast, that it even dare to sit on my slippers is a clear indication of it’s lack of respect in my environment.  Yes, my environment, my house, my room and my slippers. It rears its four front legs as if to say ‘bring it on’.  Somewhere in my mind the scene from the Matrix pops into my head, you know the one with Neo and Morpheus when he eggs Neo on with that all too often copied hand movement.  This eight-legged horror is doing exactly this, in it’s own way, not quite as simple without the hands and having eight legs but I know this is what it’s aiming to portray. 

One of the first and most important things to remember when in war is to make sure you find a suitable vantage point.  Mine was far superior to the dreadful creature with more eyes even than it’s legs…positioned safely behind the sofa, peering over it to the chair, my chair, where the enemy had taken my slippers.  It was definitely time to call for back up, this damned creation of babylonic size would not relinquish it’s position with just a mere poke from the wrong end of the longest mop I own.  I can feel my hands starting to clam up and wipe them on my jeans, who is around to offer the much-needed back up?  No one else is in the house, probably for the best.  With an arachnid of this proportion it could pose a threat to others... there is also my pride to think of albeit currently hanging in tatters. 

I must choose my allies wisely, and a choice must be made.  My gold fish, or my cat?  The gold fish is probably a more dependable ally but for reasons strikingly obvious, it is not built for missions on land.  The fins and gills mainly make it rather unsuited.  So the cat it will be, difficult to find, will do only what it wants to do and seems to relish the look on my face as it sinks its claws into my lap, a poorly disguised pretence of affection. 

I leave my vantage point in search of my newly appointed warrior.  In the boiler cupboard, under my bed, curled up in the green house, no.  I go to the last place I imagine she might be…sure enough I find her curled up on my black work trousers, adorning them with her white fur.  I wake her up with a small tickle to her head that receives a rumbling purr of appreciation, I pick her up ignoring the pain as she attaches herself to my shoulder.  I try to convey the plan to her as we enter the war zone, but my cat tongue is horrific at best.  I must instead rely on her instinct, hope that she sees it move one of its hairy legs and pounces.  A kind, quick and honourable death for such a horrific monster.

I detach her from my shoulder, more of a feat seeing as the woollen jumper I am wearing got stuck to one of her paws causing her to panic and subsequently shred the jumper.  I am grateful that she missed my face when flailing her paws around, claws fully extended.  A man desperate, I usher her into the frontline and watch as she approaches it.  It moves forward, disturbing dust particles from the old rug, a bold and daring move.  My cat, apparently not the warrior I thought she was dashes out startled by the sudden movement.  The deserter! I am a man alone in the battlefield.  I now understand why dogs not cats are referred to as ‘man’s best friend’.

I watch as it continues to move forward slowly.  No this spider is not a ‘scurrier’, it moves like its cousin the tarantula.  Slow, confident, defiant, arrogant and terrifying…Leg by leg, almost robotic…I realise this will take a reckless move from myself, taking one of my shoes off and gripping it in my shaking hands, my breaths now uneven, irregular.  I inch my way towards the advancing animal, the creature of Satan!

As I approach one of its eyes must have seen me, suddenly realising it’s folly, it turns and starts to head for the cover of the slippers again.  I take a larger stride, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I raise the shoe above my head, brandished and ready for war.  I take another step more confidently this time gaining on the space between us.  Now!  Now is the time.  I shut my eyes, the shoe hurtling through the air, my enemy is finished.  I hear the dull thud of shoe to carpet, satisfying, finite. I open my eyes.  Next to me the previously captured slippers are now liberated and ready for my use.  I slowly lift the shoe from the carpet and turn it over to inspect the sole. 

What?  I look down at the carpet and then back at the shoe.  The carcass was nowhere to be seen, I now inspect the sole carefully.  Not so much as a leg, the carpet is also bare.  Had my enemy really escaped the clutches of death?  Had it made some fantastical move and avoided the vengeance of my shoe?  Either way, the spider was gone.