Why you can’t trust spiders

Hello folks, let’s chat…It started early one morning when I found my hard-working farmer standing at the bathroom sink with the door partially closed, oblivious to the fact that I was awake, too. (Please look at how cute he is. I probably shouldn’t have done what I’m about to tell you I did, but it’s in my genes.)

I couldn’t resist. I ran my fingers up my man’s leg, in a great imitation of a spider. Phil’s response was all I could hope for, and more. And yet, for the purpose of today’s chat, we’ll need to file it under what goes around comes around…

Later that same morning, I was sitting in the bathtub when a sneaky spider decided to try and use my bare leg like an island. I handled this exactly like the calm mature woman I am. I screamed bloody murder and nearly broke my silly neck getting out of the tub. Why? Because you can’t trust spiders. For illustration I give you the true story of a spider who once pretended to find religion.

It happened one Sunday morning. My friend, Pastor Jonathan Wiggins was all up in a worship song when he opened his eyes and found a spider perched on the end of his mic, mere inches from his face.

I would’ve called off Christmas, but not Jonathan. People were doing business with Jesus and Pastor Jonathan hated the idea of disrupting their worship by banging the head of the microphone so he pulled the mic back a bit and continued singing as he considered his next move. After all, he said, it was just a little bitty spider. (How many times must I tell you people that little spiders become big spiders?) Let it be noted that during this interlude of contemplation said spider actually rose up on its back legs and waved it’s front ones in a “Oh, come let us adore Him” type of way.

Little did Jonathan know it was an evil dastardly trick. Quick as a wink, that spider took advantage of my friend’s moment of gracious indecision and leapt from the mic, landing in Jonathan’s mouth.

In. His. Mouth.

Pastor Jonathan spit that thing out and squashed it like the bug it was. I’m pretty sure he’s since come full circle to stand with me on this serious theological issue. We’re glad all dogs go to heaven but we’re hoping spiders fry in H-E-double L!

Hugs, Shellie