How’s to Not whack a Spider

Never ever kill a spider with your index finger stretched out inside the shoe.

It was the ugliest spider I have ever seen. My guts wanted to puke and all my instincts was to kill, kill, kill. In fact that was quite strange as I am one to move the buggers to a better location. But that thing, well was destined to die.

I asked for a shoe and got handed a flimsy child’s slipon. Without even thinking I whacked that reddish brown disgusting spyder into the next dimension. My hand came back up to hold my finger as a scream was stuck somewhere under my breast bone as I was trying to draw in breath. Ouch.

I’m pretty sure I fractured my index finger.

So I’m sporting a splint and trying to type with my nine other fingers. And don’t you just know my luck, I signed up for Camp Nanowrimo this year. I even have plenty of erotic material to distract myself with; clears throat, I mean to write.

Oh well. I might as well work on some of my other projects. Being down a finger, having pain fuzz out my brain, maybe I can edit?

Oh yeah, I’m really sorry I whacked that spider. I mean it was like it was me or it and I choose me. I guess I need a light some incense and say my prayers. But honestly, that was the first spider I ever met that I lost my damn mind over. How was I to know spiders came in ugly?


About Isabella LeCour

She is nothing more than the collections of thoughts placed into the virtual worlds. She is a poet, a mother, a lover, many things to different people. But mostly, she is nothing but smoke and mirrors - some ethereal thing that blinks in an out of existence.
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