"There's a spider!"

"It's not moving."

"Maybe it's dead."

"No, it's NOT!"

Then, of course, Punk scampers off to find his spider book, so as to identify the specific enemy we're dealing with here.

"Is it that one? No. Does this one match? No. Does THIS one match? No. Mommy? What kind of spider do YOU think it is?"

Now, I used to be very brave about such things as spiders. But, now that I have a knight-in-shining-armor to deal with the unpleasantries of life (like dishes, garbage, and of course critters of all unappealing ilks), I've gone soft. I have no bravery left in me. And my stomach is the weakest of all.

But, I got up to see what I could do. And found this.

Uuuugh! As in uggggly! So, I went to get the broom. I chased it and swatted at it and screamed at it. Meanwhile, Pea giggled and giggled and giggled! I slightly disabled it, but, like all bad guys, it was darn hard to kill. Despite the white goo bursting from it's belly, it kept struggling for life. I had to do something. I had to bring in the big guns. So, I lifted the nearest, semi-heavy weapon, and brought it to bear upon the struggling, oozing arachnid.