Being that I’m from Ohio, I was unaware of the southern critters now infamously know as “Banana Spiders.”(I knew about the so-called “Palmetto Bugs” of South Carolina, but we all know those monsters are really just cockroaches with southern accents. They make the same noise in SC as they do in Ohio—CRUNCH when you smash ‘em in stilettos.) Back to the Banana Spiders, though, my first summer here, I had the unpleasant and unfortunate experience of stepping onto my pretty porch and walking through a web. Then, there was that “HOLY HELL” moment of discovering the eight-legged monstrosity now shaking its fist at me, screaming, “You dumb girl, you ruined my home!”
Banana Spiders are about the size of your fist. They have cylindrical bodies, shaped like the big-ass heads of the extraterrestrials in the Alien movies. Their long legs are striped yellow, orange, and red, and those legs have fuzzy knobs like human knuckles. Once August hits, Banana Spiders are everywhere—even more so than the Palmetto Bugs that rule the dark alleys of downtown Charleston like angry gangs in the heart of Harlem. By the time you see the spider webs, it’s just too late. You’re left sputtering and wiping at the invisible strings on your face. Then, you’re left wondering, if the web is on my face, where’s the Banana Spider?
WHY am I writing about Banana Spiders today? Oh, I’ll tell you. It’s because I have a Banana Spider outside my office window. He’s been there for about two weeks, and his Alien ass keeps getting bigger. He picked up some skinny chick this past weekend, and they’ve been copulating day and night ever since. Soon, there will be baby Banana Spiders, and this concerns me. It concerns me because the spider keeps getting bigger, and I’m worried that one day, I’ll show up at work and there will be a BLUE JAY caught in that web. If Mr. Banana Spider has babies to feed, there might even be a POODLE outside my window eventually.
This is all because I refuse to go out there and kill the damn thing.
Because I’m safe at my desk.
Because I don’t want to swing a broom and accidentally toss the thing on my shoulder.
Because I have a funny feeling deep down that if I try to kill him, Mr. Banana Spider will follow me home and end up staring at me from the middle of my bedroom ceiling.
Banana Spiders. They creep the hell outta me.