A sudden movement caught my attention - the shadow of the muscular cat streaking across the room. I followed his line of attention, and spotted the item of his keen interest.
A spider - but not just a regular garden-variety arachnid . This brute turned to defend his corner, waving assault rifles and threatening the feline with a grenade.
But as the cat moved in rapidly with a combination of tai-chi and Richard Simmons moves (to include his change of costume into pink glittering tights and ear muffs), I brought up the rear with the ultimate in lethal weapons - my steady, reliable Hoover.
Combining both the instantaneous powering of the vacuum with a swift forward thrust, I shoved the brutal instrument on top of the livid (albeit cowering) creature, and the cat and I both gave each other a satisfied smile as we heard the remains being crunched between the brushes and suction.
So - who can I get to volunteer and come over to change the bag for me? I'm terrified to get any place near it now.
We are living in a foreign country. -Edmond Jabès, The Book of
Questions Image: Edward S. Curtis, Chaiwa, a Tewa Indian girl with a
butterfly whorl ...
2 comments:
When my husband comes home & sees our dustbuster sitting outside the front door, he knows that there is a spider inside he needs to dispose of. Because I Don't Do That. (Occasionally I have tried to throw our cat Lucy at them, but she mostly tries to talk to them instead of being useful) Sometimes people come to our door while the vacuum is sitting there, so I have forced complete strangers empty it into the bushes, too.
Oh, and if I were you, I would probably need to just go buy a brand new vacuum. And leave the one with the gigantic spider in it to rot in the desert somewhere.
Great idea Jen. Mom, finally an excuse to buy a Kirby!
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