"There is no spoon."
This was my mantra when attempting to bestill my rapidly beating heart. My inner red-headed school girl gleefully leapt out as I screamed in horror at the monstrous hairy spider that was sitting on the floor in front of me, waving it's front legs as if it were Morpheus taunting Neo into attacking him one more time in the training simulation.
It took only a moment to glance around, looking for the right weapon in which to vanquish this hideous foe. Spying a worn sneaker set against a door to prevent it from slamming shut (the windows were open since it was a nice spring day), I leapt into the air, everything slowing down so that I was painfully aware of every detail, every moment. Each of the spider's eight beady eyes trained on me as I passed overhead; it jumped to the side in anticipation of something, but not apparently this.
I landed, grabbed the shoe, and tossed it unerringly at my opponent. When time returned to normal, I was left staring at a scene of carnage. The sneaker was coming to rest against a wall, and the spider was twitching in death, mangled by an orthopedic projectile.
Where did I put that leather trench coat...?
Monday, June 07, 2004
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