The past couple of times that I've been at Alex's house (which is becoming few and far between because we never have time to hang out anymore...), we've found a spider. Guess who killed them? Nope, not Alex. Not the boy. It was me. The first time it was on the wall. Being brave, as soon as I spotted the spider crawling towards the ceiling, I immediately removed my shoe and smashed it with ease. Last night Alex and I were sitting on the couch. He spotted another spider, (on the hard wood floor) but this time it was scurrying across the ground. Here's some dialogue:
Alex: (pretty calmly) Hey, there's a spider on the floor. I'm surprised that it's in such an open place. Usually they hide in corners or something.
Sav: (After spotting the spider) Oh yeah, that is a pretty ugly looking spider. I smashed the spider last time. It's your turn.
Alex: Um... no thanks.
I rolled my eyes, got off the couch, grabbed my shoe that was next to the couch and went around it in hopes of sneaking up on said spider. I skillfully succeeded in approaching it without it moving. (I have many experiences in the art of smashing spiders. Been doing it my whole life cause my dad never would.) I slowly lifted up my purple shoe, aimed carefully and threw it down on the spider. My eyes widened and to my amazement, the spider EXPLODED. Or at least that was my initial thought. It didn't make sense because the spider wasn't even that big. It wasn't your ordinary house spider, but it wasn't pretty by any means. Gross black bits were everywhere. I then realized that what had "exploded" was the bottom of my shoe. Being worn quite often, to work and everywhere else, the bottom of my shoes have gathered many miscellaneous items within the crevices of its sole (mostly including sesame seeds that have gathered from working at a sandwich shop). After realizing that the spider's death wasn't as brutal as I thought, I took my shoe, put it back next to the couch and sat down.
Then I made Alex clean it up.