Beware the spider vendetta

We all saw its shadow before we saw it.
“It” was a humungous rock spider that was walking out of the campfire. That’s right, I said walking out of the campfire.
It was the colour of granite with a big round body, huge fangs and a bad attitude.
It cast a shadow from the fire and was calmly walking within inches of the hot embers.
A friend took a stick and poked the multi-legged terror and it reached up with one of its front legs grabbed the stick and slammed my friend to the ground.
OK, maybe it wasn’t that bad, but you could see it pushing the stick down a little bit.
My buddy was stunned at the strength of this thing and I felt a shiver go up my spine that lasted for the next 17 minutes.
I had visions of this Godzilla of the spider realm hiding in my sleeping bag or attacking me from below as I used the outdoor loo.
Any such interaction with the arachnid (especially the loo part) would cause me to squeal like a small, frightened school girl moments before I passed out.
Spider, one; big, strong man, zero.
As we examined the spider he, or she, or whatever it was, took up a defensive pose and would push the stick every time it came near him.
I suggested we nuke the spider, so it would never frighten small children or big adults again.
“Hey, why don’t you put on those leather work gloves, pick the spider up and throw it in the fire?” I suggested to my friend with the stick.
“Why don’t you?” was his response.
“Are you out of your mind? Look at that thing. I’m not going anywhere near it. Why do you think I suggested you do it?”
Four fully grown adults stood trembling in fear over a spider that probably weighed less than my fingernails, but no one was going near it — no matter what.
OK, plan A was a bust.
Plan B involved death from above and a bombing run using a five-pound stone was decided upon as the best way to rid the world of the grey terror that was holding us at bay.
I threw the rock and it kind of hit the spider on his side. He then seemed to bounce off the rock and the last we saw, he was shooting across the hot embers to the other side of the fire.
No carcass was found, so we assumed he had survived the assassination attempt, which sent more chills up my spine (kind of like right now actually.)
This freaked all of us out as none of us are overly fond of spiders or any other type of insect, for that matter.
I had more visions. This time it was of a wounded monster spider hiding in the woods, plotting its revenge, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.
Perhaps it would limp its way up the tree behind me, climb out on a limb and then drop onto my hair-challenged head.
“Eeeek,” does not even come close to what my reaction would be.
Maybe it would die a slow death, but survive long enough to pass on a message of vengeance to its 20,000 offspring.
That would be just my luck — to have a small army of ticked off arachnids hunting me and my kin down to fulfil some sort of insect vendetta.
There were only so many rocks I could throw.
Fearing retribution, I conducted a more thorough search of the area around the campfire, but no sign of my new nemesis could be found.
Sure, we all hatched the murder scheme, but it would be my scent on the rock. I don’t know if spiders can smell, but I do not want to take the risk.
We tried to relax around the fire and laugh off the incident, but deep down every one of us was keeping a close eye out for any sign of the spider of terror.
We have been back to that spot since that fateful night and have yet to be carried off into the woods by avenging insects, so our fears of a sci-fi like rebellion by an arachnid army are unfounded.

My fear of spiders remains, however, as strong as it ever has — perhaps even more.

Don't 'bug' me when I'm driving

It is one of the most horrifying, unnerving experiences you can have while driving, and it happened to me just the other day.
I was cruising down the road, enjoying a sunny summer's day like I have done countless times. It was not so hot I had to have the air conditioning on, so I had my window open.

That's when it happened.

I actually heard the insect hit the door jam of my car and I saw a black mass out of the corner of my eye.

I knew the condor of bugs had just entered my vehicle, but what I didn't know was the status of the bug - what kind of bug it was and how pissed off it was over being clobbered by my import.

I glanced to my left and saw a black figure – roughly the size of a full-grown ostrich – on the top of my seatbelt near the window.

And then it was gone.

I do not want to say panic set it...

It did set in, I just don't want to say it.

When you come right down to it, there really are only two types of bugs on this planet: ones that will hurt you, and ones that won't.

The odds of a bug this large being some sort of engorged lady bug were very slim, so my mind immediately went to the kind of bug that can cause pain.

It was no longer on my the top of the seatbelt near my head, so that means it was in the car somewhere.

My first fear was it had fallen between me and the seat and it was getting ready to deliver the mother of all stings or bites – or both.

Travelling down the highway and 100-ish km/h is not a good time to have an insect attack. Well, no time is a good time, but barrelling down the blacktop is an even worse time.

I reached around behind my back trying to locate the beast before it took its revenge upon me for hitting it with my car.

I reached around as far as I could then sort of lifted myself off the seat as best I could to see it maybe the monster was on the seat – not an easy thing to do at highway speeds, but I know we have all done it.

The whole time I am searching, I am also waiting. Waiting for the searing pain that only an angry insect can deliver.

By now I had slowed down considerably and was pulling over to the side of the road, getting ready to evacuate my car like it was on fire.

I stopped, jumped out and danced around the side of the road for a minute with terrifying thoughts running through my mind.

What it went down my shirt and was just knocked out, soon to awaken and bring down its wrath upon me?

Not good.

So I thrashed about for a minute trying to make sure the Jurassic bug was not on my clothing.

It was not, so that means it was still in the car.

Gulp.

I looked at the driver's seat and found nothing. A gargantuan beast of this size could not easily hide, so it had to be in there somewhere.

I opened the back door and looked on the rear seat and again saw nothing.

Had I imagined it? Was the bug some sort of hallucination brought on by my dislike of insect vermin?
No, I know what I saw and heard, and what I saw and heard was a bug hit my car and and bounce inside.

It was in there alright. Perhaps it was hiding, healing and regaining its strength for an attack.

I then looked on the floor next to the seat and there it was – a wasp.

Not just any wasp, but a monster wasp, at least two pounds worth of wasp.

Well, maybe it wasn't that big, but it was big enough.

Taking a winged, metal beast to Mexico

The Missus, myself and a couple of the our young ones (who aren't so young anymore) will be heading to Mexico in the near future.

I have never been to Mexico before and am looking forward to a big glass of their refreshing, straight-from-the-tap water.

I am kidding or course, while I may never have set foot on Mexican soil before, I have heard about the fun and excitement that awaits an unsuspecting traveller who downs some of its natural liquid resources. I am hoping to avoid that particular aspect of Mexico as I do not want to spend all my time viewing a foreign land from the inside of a toilet stall.

This will not be your typical Mexican vacation. No all inclusive resorts for this family. Instead of five days pool side, we will be spending three days building a house for a less fortunate Mexican family.

Everyone chips in to cover the cost of the materials needed to build the modest home, so not only are we going there to work for someone else, we are paying to do it.

I have never claimed to be too smart, but of course the reward of helping someone in need will far outweigh the expense and effort.

We are all very much looking forward to it. But it won't all be toiling under the hot Mexican sun, the last two days of our adventure will be spent pool side at a hotel on the ocean.

But before we can do any of this, we have to get there and that means taking flight in a winged, man-made beast.

I do not have a lot of experience flying and the first time I was on a commercial jet was when I was 23. I had been on a short flight in a helicopter before and even 'flew' my buddy's single engine airplane for a brief distance, but my honeymoon trip to California was my first jetliner experience.

My dad is deathly afraid of flying and he passed some of those fears down to me, so when I boarded the metal tube of terror all those years ago, I was a nervous wreck.

It did not help that we were flying at night and bounced our way through a storm. My wife, who was cool as a cucumber the entire time, said I was as white as a sheet as I gripped the armrests of my seat hard enough to leave a permanent impression.

Even after we cleared the storm, the plane was still vibrating, but now it was because of my uncontrollable shaking.

The return flight was much smoother and much more enjoyable and since then I have been on a few flights, including to Russia and back.

That was mostly uneventful flying, except when approaching JFK airport on the return trip where we slammed into a severe thunderstorm.

“Uhhh, this is your captain speaking, we may encounter a little turbulence on approach, so we are asking to keep your seatbelts on and secure all loose items.”

A little turbulence? A little? That was like saying Godzilla was an itty, bitty salamander. I have never experienced anything like that in my life as the plane dropped like a stone several times causing screams of pure panic (no, not from me). Many of my fellow passengers were completely freaking out.

I looked over at a flight attendant and even she looked scared.

I thought that can't be good, but when I realized there was nothing I could do about the situation, I just sat back and enjoyed the ride. Being scared and screaming like a small girl would not change things. Besides, it was not like there was a spider in my shirt or anything.

Any fear of flying I had left in me was gone at that moment and taking flight is no longer a concern.

So I am looking forward to the upcoming Mexican adventure, eager to see new lands and meet new people.

Copyright 2015 Darren Handschuh

Mystery of missing brains a real head scratcher

OK, this is just a little too strange to ignore.
The University of Texas in Austin has reported 100 brains have gone missing.
That's about half of the university's collection of brains that were preserved in jars of formaldehyde and used for a variety of studies.
This opens up a whole universe of questions from who took them to why did they take them?
Why would anyone want one brain in a jar let alone 100?
I know people like to collect things – I have several old tools mounted on the wall of my man cave – but I have never thought I needed a brain collection.
What would you do with them? Put them on the mantle? Perhaps on the coffee table as a conversation piece – a conversation that I hope would include the recommendation to interact with a mental health professional.
But wait, that is not all.
The university is home to some of the greatest minds alive today, and this is what one of those great minds had to say about it:
“We think somebody may have taken the brains, but we don't know at all for sure," psychology Professor Tim Schallert, co-curator of the collection said.
You think somebody may have taken the brains!
What do you mean, you think someone took the brains?
If no one took them, what the hell happened to them?
Did they some how come back to life and figure out how to get out on their own? If so, there are a lot of people in Ottawa who could use a method of bringing their brains to life.
Is this some weird horror movie coming to life: Night of the Bottled Brains, Attack of the Fermented Gray Matter, Charge of the Contained Craniums?
I am no detective, or even a high-IQ professor type, but even I can figure out someone took the brains and I have never even been to Texas.
His co-curator, psychology Professor Lawrence Cormack came to the same conclusion and suspected undergrad students may have liberated the brains from the facility for Halloween or other juvenile reasons.
Now that makes much more sense.
Of course, there is always the Frankenstein monster scenario where undergrads are regenerating their own creatures made of accumulated body parts and needed a brain to complete the set, but I highly doubt it.
More than likely it was a youthful adventure by high-IQ, low common sense students who did it for a gag.
The remaining 100 brains are being moved to a different location in the hopes they won't wander away like the others.


Copyright 2014 Darren Handschuh

Spiders, spiders everywhere - eeeeek

Just reading the story freaks me out.
There is a family in the U.S. who bought a house that was already occupied.
No, there was not a hillbilly family living under the stairs, it was something much more horrifying – spiders.
Not just a few spiders, not even a few dozen spiders, but thousands of spiders. Thousands of brown recluse spiders - a very poisonous and dangerous spider.
It was estimated there were up to 5,000 of the creepy crawlies living in the walls, cupboards, closets, bathroom and every nook and cranny the house of horrors had.
The owner said the walls were 'bleeding spiders' there were so many of them. They would come out of every opening they could find, they would fall on people in the shower, they would...sorry, I had to stop typing for a second to do the spider dance where you twitch and jerk and brush away imaginary spiders that your mind is convinced are crawling all over you.
Just thinking about that many spiders is enough to give me the heebie jeebies and make me feel like they are crawling down the back of my shirt and...sorry, spider dance again.
The family has moved out and successfully sued the former owner for failing to mention the unwanted guests.
The former home owner immediately filed for bankruptcy, leaving the current owners stuck between a rock and a house full of spiders.
When we first moved to the area, my wife and I rented a home that had more than its fair share of arachnid activity.
Their numbers may not have been in the thousands, but a handful is more than enough to keep you awake at night wondering what is crawling into bed with you.
There was an extremely low vacancy rate at the time and the slumlord, er, I mean home owner knew it, so he had little interest in making improvements to the 1940s abode that had not seen an upgrade in many years, meaning we were left to face the hell-born beasts on our own.
After smashing more spiders than I ever thought possible, I bought a can of bug killer spray and hosed down the entire house. I sprayed every nook, cranny, opening and any area that might possibly harbour one of the messengers of terror.
Once the spraying was done, it was time to get out of there for a little while.
We took the dogs for a walk and when we came back it looked like a horror movie with dead bugs everywhere and...sorry, spider dance again.
We cleaned out their remains, but we knew the spiders were anything but vanquished.
They would be back, oh yes, there would be more.
But by this time we were at peace with the spider realm and shared our home with God's multi-legged creatures, living in harmony and happiness – yea, right.
Nope, we smashed every single one we could. After the chemical attack of doom, there were fewer spiders, but even fewer spiders is still too many spiders.
Zero spiders is the target number of spiders I am willing to share my home with.
We called that house The Addams Family home because it was just as creepy as the home of the TV ghouls who enjoy stuff like that.
We did not enjoy it, but there was really no where else for us to go. At the time, we were so broke a homeless guy gave me 25 cents, and we could not afford to move for several more months.
In all, we lived in the spider nest for 15 months before we had saved up enough to buy a modest town house – a spider-free town house I might add.
I look back on those early years of our marriage with fond memories – except for the spiders of course, that I look back on with terror and...spider dance.

Bugs: the bigger they are the more I hate them

Anyone who has read my ramblings knows I have a slight aversion to spiders.
And by slight, I mean the multi-legged spawn of Lucifer himself scare me stupid.
The technical name for it is arachnophobia, I call it spiders are icky and I don't like them-phobia.
As a full-grow, rather large human being, it does put a dent in my veneer of masculinity to utter a high-pitched, school girl-like scream when a spider actually manages to touch my skin.
God forbid one of the eight-legged monsters should somehow end up in an article of clothing where I could feel it wriggling around – just the thought makes me shudder.
The horror is simply too much to imagine.
But I am proud to report I had a very close encounter with a spider the other day and I did not panic, I did not freak out and I did not squeal like a pig caught in a combine.
Nope I casually looked at my tormentor as it crawled up my arm and calmly brushed it away.
Step aside Chuck Norris, the new icon of macho is here.
OK, that might be getting a little carried away because the spider was just slightly smaller than a kernel of corn.
But hey, it was still a spider and spiders are icky and I did not freak out in the least, so I am claiming that as a victory for the spider wimp crowd, of which I am a chartered member.
But it would seem my wimpy-ness is not reserved just for arachnids.
I was going for a leisurely stroll through the park on my lunch break the other day when something flew into my right ear.
It hit with a thump and had this horrific, deep buzzing sound as it fluttered around my ear region.
I knew it was large and at first I wondered how a bald eagle managed to fly up my ear, but deep down I knew what it was: a big, nasty, ugly, scary bug of some sort.
But I was not panicking, or freaking out. I just casually – some might say frantically, but what do they know – brushed the beast away. However, I missed.
As if terrorizing me with its kamakze assault on my ear canal was not enough, it then dropped straight down – into the collar of my shirt.
OK, now I was panicking. I had a monster bug of some sort trying to get way too friendly with me and I had no idea what kind of bug it was.
There really are only two types of bugs in this world: ones that will hurt you, and ones that won’t.
I did not know which type of bug it was, but I automatically assumed it was the painful type so I went in to full blown panic mode and danced around while frantically pawing at my collar to get rid of the horror movie stand in, all the while waiting for the pain of a bite, pinch, small arms fire or whatever else the beast had in its arsenal.
A split second later, this massive black form took off, the thrum of its eagle-sized wings echoing in my conciousness.
I watched it fly away and I was right, it was big and ugly and nasty, but apparently it was not a biter. Or if was, it took pity on me and flew away without inflicting any pain – any physical pain that is.
The psychological trauma lasted for several minutes as I relived the horror of the attack over and over again.
A cold shiver ran down my back, but at least it was not a warm feeling running down my leg.
So yes, it is more than spiders that make a 250-pound man jump around like he has electrodes attached to his nipples.
It is pretty much any bug that is big, ugly and nasty, and folks, that is a lot of bugs.

Copywrite 2014 Darren Handschuh