Death by Flip Flop

I just broke my daughter’s flip flop while beating a gigantic…I mean GIGANTIC…spider to death. It was nestled against the wall outside my other daughter’s bedroom. I told them to look away before they could see it and be traumatized for the rest of the night, if not the rest of the spider season.

I briefly thought I should take a picture so someone would believe me how BIG this thing was but I wasn’t about to let it out of my sight.

So, grabbing the closest thing I could reach, the black and pink sparkly flip flop, I beat it into submission. Seeing it still but not quite squished enough, I took that flip flop, placed it securely over top of the ENORMOUS spider and stomped on it with my other flip flopped foot.

The girls, sensing I was killing something, retreated into their bathroom until the carnage was over. The spider and the flip flop were both dead.

“Hand me some toilet paper!” I said to my youngest who produced a square. “More! Much more!” I requested until half a roll appeared in my hand. Just enough to not feel the outline of the HUMONGOUS spider.

Into the toilet and quickly flushed away, he got what he deserved. Now I wonder, however, do they travel in packs?

“So long, sucker,” said my eldest.

Exactly, I thought. And there wasn’t much else to say after that.

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