I live next door to a very nice lady; Suzee.
Apart from me, she’s the only other building-resident less than one-hundred and twenty years of age; about fifty, separated, runs her own business and generally seems quite independent.
Like I said, she’s a very nice lady who reminds me a lot of the brunette ‘Ab Fab’ chick, only a little more together. Last weekend, Suzee knocked on my door, a little hysterical, and asked if I could come over and remove a large Huntsman spider from her balcony. She’s terrified of spiders and when I went over to take a look at the problem, I saw this one was the size of a dinner plate, all set up in a high corner with a lovely web.
I said, “Sure, no problem. What’s in it for me ??”
“You heard me, Suzee. If I’m going to do your pest control, what are you going to do for me ??”
“Fingers, are you being revolting ??”
“In your dreams, you old bat (she likes it when I’m cheeky to her)…I mean is there any danger of some domestic reciprocation for services rendered ??”
“OK, I’ll iron a few shirts for you.”
“How many ??”
“No deal. That spider’s huge. And it’s breeding season, so it’ll be looking for something to kill and feed to its young soon.”
“No way, Suzee. That is a ten-shirt spider if ever there was one. Maybe twelve.”
“OK, OK…ten shirts.”
“And properly ironed too. Not just sleeves and front…I want the collars pressed and the backs creased.”
“And a blowjob…”
“Just get that fucking spider off my balcony. Please...”
“OK. Ten shirts, properly ironed and you can owe me a blow job, Gummy.”
“Yes, whatever…just get rid of it, pleeeease…”
So, because I abhor the killing of Nature’s creatures (except cockroaches and French citizens), I got a Tupperware container from Suzee’s pantry, coaxed Mr Huntsman into it, closed the lid tight, walked out of the unit and into the garden, where I planned to release him back into the wild.
Until I had a particularly brilliant idea…
Long story short, my new pet spider is now living and working full-time in my wine-cellar, where he gets free, secure lodgings and all the insects he can catch.
And as soon as I run out of ironed shirts, I have a funny feeling ‘Mr Huntsman’ will be holidaying on Suzee’s balcony…