|Figure A., subcat position.|
I backed up and stood frozen in the middle of the kitchen, staring. Loki crouched in subcat position (see figure A), eyeing his newest target: an eight legged monster of epic proportions.
I slowed my ragged breathing to normal and assessed my options:
Option A: grab object close to me, not taking my eyes off of the creature. Problem was, things around me included: a pack of Hershey's chocolate, a candle, K's fanny pack, and a box of Triscuits. Not even close to enough ammo.
Option B: walk away from the spider to go find a longer weapon with which to attack. The risk factor: it could run away in the meantime, never to be found again. I would not sleep for an entire week, and if my eyes did close, visions of creepy crawlers would inch their way into my brain.
I decided reluctantly to go with Option B. I dashed into the laundry room and retrieved the longest, most dangerous weapon I could get my hands on: a dollar store broom.
I ran back into the room, and took a deep breath before I executed the assasination.
The next minute was a blur of flying plastic, screeching kitties, and crying. When the battle was over, I stood sweaty and heaving in the middle of the kitchen, shards of broken plastic strewn across the kitchen. The spider was dead, the kitties were scared, and my eyes were glazed over with crazy. I think next time, I'll leave the spider killing to K.