It was a WOLF SPIDER that started it all.

Huge, scary looking things they are. I’ve actually seen them rear up on their nasty little hind legs to attack when one of my cats went after them. :shock:

And there it was—sitting calmly beside me on the couch, like it had been invited to watch tv and share a snack.

My exact words at that critical moment?
“HOLY SHIT!!!!”
(quickly followed by a leap worthy of an Olympic athlete, I might add).

So what was it about screaming “HOLY SHIT” that made me stop and think?

Because I’d hate to think that, in a real time of crisis, those would be the last words I spoke.
I mean, really. I’m supposed to be a wordsmith? Who wants to go out that way?!
Wouldn’t you rather your last words be something more profound, like:

Lord Byron: “Goodnight.”
Lou Costello: “That was the best ice cream soda I ever tasted.”
Stonewall Jackson: “Let us pass over the river and rest under the shade of the trees.”
Malcolm X: “Cool it, brothers…”
Theodore Roosevelt: “Put out the light.”
Dylan Thomas: “I have just had eighteen whiskeys in a row. I do believe that is a record.”
George Washington: “It is well, I die hard, but I am not afraid to go.”
Raine Weaver: “Holy Shit!!”

It simply won’t do. I’ll have to work on something better.
Unless, of course, history is LYING, and these people said something quite different than what is recorded…
Maybe Washington really said, “you craven bastards, have you stolen my boots and teeth already?”
Or maybe Roosevelt’s last word was “CHARGE!!!”, like the demented brother in “Arsenic and Old Lace”?

I guess we’ll never know the truth.
But I’ll tell ya what—tuck a wolf spider into the sickbed of any famous person you might know, and you’ll get one helluva hint.