Mr Cartwheel

Last night, I caught him again. The Monster Cartwheeling Spider that has plagued my living room... the last time, I released him in to the alley only to discover that he found his way back in.

This thing was the size of a tangerine, with legs longer than Daryl Hannahs. I had to use a pint glass to catch him the first time, as I feared anything else would not suffice. The width of a standard glass would have made him legless... Mr Cartwheel was a pint kinda guy, for sure.

Last night, he just sat there, looking at me. "Honey! I'm home!" So I grabed a glass (slightly narrower rim, but he wasn't moving, he was daring me to catch him again). Glass on top, Sky letter underneath. Got him.

And I sat there, watching him watch me from his glass prison, his legs pushing at the clear walls, fighting for his freedom...

I've no fear of squatting a mosquito, hoovering up small spiders, laying ant powder... but when things get a little bigger, something clicks inside that says, "wait! This one has a conscience,  a life!" I wouldn't purposefully kill a baby rabbit - though they do pop when being driven over. And Mr Cartwheel was BIG.

I could almost see the expression on his face. And that's what steeled my nerves. It wasn't a baby rabbit with a twitchy nose, it wasn't cute and innocent. It was EVIL. Pincers jabbing at the glass, long legs reaching the top of his prison (the bottom of the glass) as he tried in vain to push himself free. He was Jack Torrence, and if I didn't do something final with him, he'd come back and bounce tennis balls against the wall to annoy me.

Or he might even come back with an axe.

I had to act, but I also had to be sure. WD40 is an insect killer, but the thought of lifting one end of the glass to spray him didn't sit good with me. Even with the little red staw, I was sure that the tiniest crack in his prison would be enough for him to get his legs under, lift the glass and attack.

I could flush him down the loo, but what if he climbed back out? Squishing him underfoot was an option, but his armour plated body would probably feel like stepping on a stone.

I returned to the toilet idea, but took a break for a smoke while I hatched my plan. All the time, Mr Cartwheel watched me, dared me to defeat him.

WD40 around toilet bowl so he couldn't climb back out... flush... bleach... rinse and repeat.

Plan sorted, I had confidence. I could win this war. I WOULD win this war.

Bowl sprayed with insect killing lubricant, I went back to retrieve him, half expecting him to have vanished, to see a tipped up glass and a note on the Sky envelope saying, "Ha! Nice try, Missus! I'll see you tonight while you're sleeping!" But he was there, defiantly sitting front and centre, pincers still but primed.

I carried him gingerly, knowing any sudden movement could scupper the plan. I held him over the toilet bowl, showed him my plan, and I sware his expression was of cocky confidence. As if meer water would be his end?!

A quick jerk of the glass and in he fell, landing with a small splash. He opened up his legs, touching either side of the bowl, relaxing on his back, pincers slowly opening and closing. It was now or never. I pushed down on the lever, and Niagra Falls opened up above him, driving him down the U bend and away. The saftey lid on the bleach had me panic. I should have known to open it in advance. And I sware there was a leg clinging on, long enough for Mr Cartwheel to pull himself back, climb back out... Fear had me in its throws, but then the lid came free, and half a bottle of thick bleach slid down after him. The leg lost its grip, and I flushed again.

Rinse and repeat.
Rinse and repeat....