Boys and Girls, sit back and throw another log on the fire while Grandpa Swami tells you a story. Let’s see, did I already tell you the one about the electrical conduit that bled oil?
I did? Well how about the time I ate a whole Taco Bell taco, and somehow didn’t regret it. Did I tell you that one?
Well gosh, kids, you’re making it a bit tough. I think I gotta dig deep for this one. Oh yeah! You haven’t heard this one yet, because it happened just last night. Right over there.
*points shaky hand toward the bathroom*
I almost accidentally put a spider in my anus. And it was this big!
It began when I sat to do what all of God’s children do. You know. Poop. They wrote a book about that you know. I was firmly in the “not everybody poops” camp, but that literature showed me the light, I’ll tell you. It changed the way I looked at the world.
Yes Timmy, even giraffes.
So what I was saying is that I was… you know… doing that. And all of a sudden, a brazen spider crossed my path. Word has gone out in the spider world that my house is a place is a dangerous place. I’ve seen the tiny chalk markings on the windowsills.
This little guy did not properly learn his spider hobo language. And so I did what any self respecting homeowner would do when their home is invaded. I grabbed a piece of toilet paper, conveniently right next to me, and captured it. I then lifted myself off the seat and began to throw it in the water.
Now is a good time to teach you kids about muscle memory. Have you ever performed an action so many times that you don’t even have to think about doing it? It’s a great adaptation, allowing us to spend less conscious energy on simple, rote actions so we can focus on the more important things.
Have I foreshadowed the dilemma enough? I was in the middle of the rote action – piece of toilet paper in hand, lifting myself from the seat, doing what we do. I had not even a single thought of what I was going to do. The spider, already beaten and demoralized, saw with its eight terrified eyes its final destination.
But wait. I want you to remember that the keyword in this whole escapade is “almost”. At that very moment, I learned that there is a vestigial, underdeveloped section of brain that tracks the proximity of anus to any known spiders. This bit of brain, eager since the day I was born to take center stage, saw its cue finally occur, and with cracking voice yelled, “HUGNGGGNNG”.
I froze. The rest of my brain struggled to interpret the meaning of this message from what was until now the quietest of brain bits. Thankfully, the message was interpreted through a type of gray-matter Rosetta Stone.
I dedicate this post to that part of my brain. You saved me from inventing some horrific spastic new dance, and that spider was allowed to be buried at sea with full honors.
Now go get grandpa some bourbon. I’m thirsty.