I killed a tarantula on our back porch the size of a small giraffe this evening. Paige saw it in the crack on the ceiling / brick (yeah the one the painter is supposed to caulk, but that's another show). I thought it was a bat. I could have been eaten alive by that dam thing. 3 doses of wasp spray had no affect. Being the man of the family I knew I had to take control of this situation ... for the sake of the children......so, i did what any man would do faced with a battle that he knew deep down he probably would not survive but still knew it had to be done ... I offered the first shot with a shovel to Paige but she declined (panzy). With a school girl scream on the edge of my tongue, should the situation go south, I approached stealthily and made a precision strike....3 of those later the beast was dead. It might be just my opinion but I think the missing chunk of brick, the chip in the concrete and the missing paint on the ceiling all add character to the house.
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