The Spider Who Made Me Its Bitch

The summer of 2006 I was working as an aquatics counselor at the Boy Scouts of America camp “Ma-Ka-Ja-Wan.”  I loved my job, spending warm summer days teaching scouts how to swim, kayak, or sail.  The only real downside of the job (aside from the pay that we on the staff referred to as our ‘peanuts’) was the living accommodations. You see, when I wasn’t working I was likely spending time in my bungalow, affectionately referred to as “The Stump”. It was small, precariously set on cinder blocks, and the only minor nice aspect of the Stump was that it overlooked the camp lake. 

It would be 'charming' if it didn't look like the set of a B-list slasher film.

I shared the Stump with a roommate, meaning we each had approximately half the area of your average jail cell. My bunkmate and I shared bunk-beds held together with duct tape and rope, as you can see in the picture above. With two young men away from their parents living together, we also kept the space dirty and hard to navigate most of the time.  We also shared the single half-sized dresser, which meant that when we couldn’t figure out whose dirt-stained bundle of clothes was whose, we also unintentionally shared our clothing.

The lack of cleanliness combined with the terrible living space is what led me, upon waking up one chilly morning, to simply grab the nearest pair of clean socks, shorts, and boots. Like a fool, I didn’t look carefully at the boots as I stuffed my feet in their odiferous opening. 

As my foot plunged down into the dark recesses of the boot I felt a strange *squish*. Half a second later, the *squish* feeling changed to a new sensation, as whatever I was thrusting my foot against suddenly moved.

Immediately I jumped out of bed, threw the boot towards the doorway, and began desperately scraping my foot on the floor to clean it. Nothing was on my foot, so I looked nervously towards the thrown boot, lying against the door. Crawling out of the boot, slowly and menacingly, was a wolf spider the size of my fist.  

THIS DOES NOT BODE WELL

It was the largest spider I’d seen that didn’t live in a glass cage, and I was filled with such panic that I let out a terrified and embarrassingly high-pitched yelp, which woke my bunkmate. Looking down angrily from his upper-bunk bed, he stared at me for several seconds before angrily ordering, “Shut. Up. Now.”  

I tried to explain my terror by pointing at the boot and babbling, “But…but…with eight legs!  And fangs!  Because…the boots, on my feet and…amputate my foot!” I then held my foot up in the air for him to see, somehow thinking this would help clear up any lingering confusion. 

Obviously not understanding my terror but trying to help me through my apparently random fear, my bunkmate threw his legs over the side of the bed and hopped down onto the floor. “Brian,” he more calmly reassured me, “there’s nothing there!”  I looked again and saw that just as he said, the spider was gone.  Far from feeling relieved, however, I was terrified. I ran out of the Stump and into the chill early morning air. Seeing that my bunkmate didn't follow, I realized he still didn’t understand the giant-spider problem, so I hissed through the screen in the door, “THERE WAS A SPIDER IN MY BOOTS!”

I heard him walk around for a moment before the door came swinging open, and my bunkmate came out holding the boot I’d thrown. “First,” he stated in a condescending, irritable tone, “this isn’t your boot.  It’s mine. And second, there’s no spider. And even if there was, it’s just a fucking spider!”

Hearing him explain it so calmly, I realized he was right. I tried to smile but ended up with a sheepish grin. I was about to admit my idiocy and apologize when I noticed that the boot he was holding, his fingers held on the inside lip of the shoe itself, seemed to move ever so slightly. Then, the same horrifying gigantic wolf spider from moments before again scurried out of the boot and onto his hand. 

Now it was his turn to let out a girlish scream as he flung the boot (and accompanying spider) high up into the air.  We scattered away from where it would land, and by the time the spider-boot hit the ground, we were on opposite sides of the Stump, cowering behind the edges of the walls. 

I called out to my bunkmate, “See?  SEE?  It’s a giant killer demon spider! It’s evil!  It’s going to kill and eat us!” Calmer than me, my bunkmate called back, “Shut up, I was just startled!  It’s just a spider.  Besides, a fall like that means it’s dead now! So…pick up the boot and check.”

I countered, telling him, “I’ll get the boot if you see where the spider landed.”  I waited for a response, but none came.  I stuck my head past the edge of the Stump and looked toward the boot again.  The spider was nowhere to be seen.  My bunkmate was likewise still hiding behind the Stump, and I saw his head peek over the corner, and we locked eyes.  Silently and in apparent unison, we decided now was the time to go back inside and get fully dressed before anyone else saw us and our embarrassing spider story was shared.  For all I cared, the boot was welcome to stay outside.

“Listen,” he said slowly, making direct eye contact with me, “I’m going to pick up the boot, and we can pretend this never happened.  You go back inside, and get dressed. The spider's outside now. Everything is fine.”

Nervously, I nodded, and crept around the edge of the building. My bunkmate crept carefully to where the boot was on the ground and carefully lifted the boot and looked inside.  Relieved, he held the lip of the boot open to show me it was empty.  Then, we both turned and faced back towards the Stump’s door, as I reached for the handle. Before my hand could touch the door, my bunkmate grabbed my wrist, and stopped me.  With another girlish shriek, he pointed at the handle where the same (and apparently malevolently haunting) spider now sat, its front two legs raised and waving menacingly in the air.  I pulled my hand back, and we both stared shocked at the tenacious spider and its conquest over our home.

My actual thoughts during all of this:  "Maybe if I cower in terror it will leave me alone?"

I didn’t know what to do so I jokingly stated, “Well, I didn’t like that stuff anyway.”

My bunkmate agreed, admitting, “Yeah, at least not enough to go back inside.  The Stump belongs to the spider now.”

I nodded and backed slowly away from the door, recognizing our defeat with a nervous chuckle. As we backed away, I sealed our defeat by nervously admitting, “Agreed! The Stump belongs to the spider now.”

And that, my dear readers, is how a spider made me (and my bunkmate) its bitch.
From Brian at BB+B, let me just say that I hope you enjoyed the story.  I’d love to hear your feedback, so: Feel free to leave a comment below, share this story with your friends on Facebook or Twitter, or comment on the Facebook BB+B page to let me know what you think.
Remember, there are always plenty more fun “Brian Allman is embarrassed/hurt/scared of nature” stories to come, so check BB+B frequently for updates, and as always, thanks to all my readers for sharing and enjoying my posts and stories!
-Brian, the Author Guy.