Houston, we have a problem.
Lions and Tigers and Jumping Spiders, OH MY
We have spickets in the house. What’s a spicket, you ask? A spicket is a horribly gianormous mutation that obviously occurred during the time a spider was holding a cricket captive and decided the cricket looked, uh, nice that day. It resembles a wolf spider, has two extra long antennae, a lengthy tail, and possesses the ability to jump higher than a cricket. Like straight up. At face-level. Seriously. I have also learned they do so purposely as an intimidation tactic.
This bug is actually trying to scare me. It THINKS. It’s the kind of stuff my nightmares are made of.
Early this morning, Keith finally got to hear what his girlfriend sounds like when she screams. Loudly. It wasn’t pretty.
From what I’ve read, nobody likes them (everybody hates them, I think I’ll eat a worm… fat ones, skinny ones, even little bitty ones – see how they wiggle and squirm…)
They’re fast. Like Edward Cullen fast. I assume this is because (yes, I know what assuming does) they realize just how bad they look. I’d be willing to bet these babies would turn to stone just by seeing their reflection in a mirror.
I made a new Kill this morning, the second one within 24 hours. This morning’s Kill was about the size of a silver dollar. A bug should not be the size of a silver dollar. It’s just not natural. If you are able to catch up to one, it’s a gross Kill since they’re quite meaty – their upper thighs resemble those of a bodybuilder.
Afterwards I went into the bedroom where Keith was sitting straight up in bed. At this point I wouldn’t have been more surprised if his head had spun around in Linda Blair fashion. “We’ve got jumping spiders” I said. “We can’t do this. We just can’t.” (Note the “We”, as in Us, as in No Us if They stay.) Of course I didn’t come right out and say that it was either me or the spickets – I think I made a point without saying anything like that. “I’ll stop on the way home and get some stuff” he said. I locked eyes with him and held the glare for what seemed like 60 seconds but was probably only about 10. I really do think he understood me, he’s just good like that.
He also kept any witty comments he might’ve had about my sheet-white face locked up tight in his little bag of tricks. To be pulled out at a more opportune time, I’m sure. Like maybe at the next family reunion.
Enter Google. Old faithful, trusty, reliable Google. I heart Google.
Results = Camel Cricket or Cave Cricket, they’re one in the same. Oh good! So now I can replace the slang name ‘jumping spiders’ I’ve given them all my life with better terminology. Cave cricket – let’s see, what else lives in a cave? Bats. Spiders. Snakes. Bears. Monsters. The Unknown. Any insect that lives in a cave, well who the heck knows what they do in the dark? I also read they are people-intimidators. YA THINK?