Spider Nightmare

Sometimes when it rains, it pours.  And somtimes when you think it’s raining it’s actually a fucking meteor shower that will destroy the universe.  As was the case when I saw one of the dogs at work playing with a crawly thing and went to investigate.  It was a spider, of course.  A huge spider.  It appeared at first to be a garden-variety wolf spider (sick) but its abdomen looked huge and deformed.  In horror, I told my fellow doggie daycare slave that I thought it had its babies on its back.  She responded calmly that that was a myth, that spiders have nests, and that I should hurry up and step on it.  So I did.  That is when the horror truly began.  As I lifted my foot expecting a flat spider, not only did the beast spring up on its eight awful legs and continue crawling, but it’s millions of baby spiders fled from the safety of their mother’s back, skittering out in all directions like dandelion seeds (but not so pleasant, of course).  I screamed, as did the former non-believer, and frantically went to squash the beast again.  When I lifted my foot, MORE baby spiders fled the scene.  I now had a dead mama spider, but her pissed off orphans were racing every which-way, with sure-intentions of revenge.  I quickly raced for the disinfectant and frantically sprayed it down upon all arachnids, only to find the infantile evil bastards swimming through it, as my screams shot out of my mouth expressing my utter horror.  Daycare slave number 3 soon entered and performed a Mexican-Hat-Dance-Turned-Spider-Killer-Jig atop the arachnid invasion, and all was soon OK again.  Except for my mental state.  Which will never return to normal. Would yours?