Welcome to 2TheHeart's Funny Friday!
"You are only young once, but you can stay immature indefinitely"
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by Susan Fahncke
The shrieks of the thirty-year old man alerted me. The ensuing crashing sounds and his screams for the fly swatter confirmed it. A spider. Sighing, I grabbed the Sam's Club sized can of Raid (step two in his "system" for spider killing) and headed for the sounds of panic. The thirty-year old man is an Arachnophobe and he is my husband. "Marty" (I'll try the best I can to protect his identity.) can fell a ten point buck at one hundred yards without a hint of a flinch. He can pick up a snake with his bare hands. And change a diaper with barely a grimace. He rode his bicycle 24 hours in the Sierra Nevadas for charity.
But show him a Daddy Long Legs and he runs like a little girl, with shrieks that make our two year old (who is Deaf) leave claw marks on my neck.
I wish there were a Spider Sissies Anonymous I could send him to. With as many people in the world living in fear of eight-legged creatures, one would think it would be very popular. "Hello, my name is Marty and I am terrified of spiders."
Unfortunately, there isn't such an organization. Our fourteen-year old, Nick, used to be our Family Spider Killer. Fear must be a learned trait because he is now the quivering mess that my husband is at the sight of anything with eight legs.
I tried to train the three-year old to kill the spiders, but being the quick-minded toddler that he is, he now knows to point, scream and run - in that order.
Which leaves my eight-year old daughter, Maya. Maya is tough as a Humvee. She once took a shower with a Brown Recluse the size of a peach. Calmly hopping out of the shower, she announced. "Someone needs to get that thing". She's tough, but she's not insane. Half a can of Raid and a shredded fly swatter later, my husband went to our room to lie down and recover, while Maya fearlessly finished her shower.
And then there is me. I am a woman. It's expected of me to fear them. Our family now lives in Utah, which as it turns out, is home of the Monster Spiders. My first experience with a Wolf Spider (slightly smaller version of the Tarantula) was actually while I was driving sixty-five miles an hour on the freeway. Something moving on the passenger floor of the car caught my eye. Glancing down, I let out a scream that actually froze the spider in place. It was the most horrid, hairy, striped Arachnid I had ever seen. Slamming on my brakes and jetting sideways into the median, I went from 65 to zero in less time than it takes to wet yourself. It just so happened that I had a pile of rocks on the front seat next to me. (For my garden. Probably where the spider came from in the first place.) Snatching one in my trembling hands, I hefted it onto the spider and then repeatedly stomped on it, screaming the entire time. From that point on, I get weak-kneed at the sight of Wolf Spiders. Or anything vaguely resembling them.
So, "Marty" (not his real name, I swear.) who vowed to love, honor and protect me, is forced to be the exterminator in our home. I run to another room and shut the door until it's over. My favorite part is listening to the sound of furniture being knocked over, pictures falling off the walls, my husband cursing, the kids squealing, and much thumping and crashing in general. I don't want to see it, but it's fun to listen to. And it's the only way to get a spider killed in this house.
I am the founder and editor of 2TheHeart & Funny Friday. I live in Utah and am a wife, mother, freelance writer, volunteer sign language teacher, and gardener. To see more of my writing, visit www.2theheart.com/susan_fahncke/, & read my embarrassing story "Playing Possum" in the Funny Friday archives listed at the bottom of this email.
"Never eat more than you can lift."
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by Pat Lowe
When the kids were little, Willie loved to read to them. Sometimes he liked to twist the stories a bit, or just tell the kids a surprise short story. They loved to hear their daddy read to them about "Cinderella and Her Stool Crepmother". They also enjoyed "The Three Bears" and "Little Red Ridinghood", each character having the appropriate voice.
One evening he only had time for one more very short story, so this was it: "Once upon a time...commercial...the end."
Of course it caused the girls to have fits of giggles. For a long time afterwards, they asked their daddy to tell that "really short story".
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