Winged Spiders: Death Comes From The Skies

I had a frightening, frightening dream the other day.  I dreamt that I was asleep in my bed.  While this wasn't alarming, it's Inception-like qualities did provide me with a sinking feeling of uneasiness, as if I were slowly falling into lower levels of consciousness while massive "BRRRRRRMS" echoed around me.

I dreamt that, while lying on my bed, I espied a spider resting atop my curtains.  It was big.  As big as a quarter.  No—it was even larger—and thus, more terrifying. Because, as we know, the scariness of spiders increases exponentially with its size and hairiness:

 

My eyes never left the spider, who, perched atop his lofty outcrop, eyed me with his greedy little eyes (all eight of them) and waited for me to fall asleep so he could pounce on top of me, bite me, and suck me dry of all my precious bodily fluids. I knew that, while I kept my eyes on him, he would not make a move. He knew that I was too weary to get out of bed. It was an optical Mexican standoff. However, the universal arachnid urge to eviscerate all humans was too much for him. He flung himself onto my pillow, just next to my right ear.

And that was when I woke up, and did not turn my head to the left for the next hour and a half.

This bit where the spider swan-dived right next got me thinking: "Neptune's Trident, what if spiders could fly? We're done for. It's a good they don't exist yet." 

Also: giant squirrels. Exceptionally happy they aren't around.

Except they do.  In a sense.

Spiders can soar with the wind due to a process called ballooning.  It's where a baby spider creates a sort of kite with its silk and allows the wind to carry it to Heaven-knows-where (probably some poor bloke's mouth).  It's all perfectly harmless—for now. But then they'll mutate (probably through some ill-conceived genetic experiment), exponentially increasing in size and sprouting mid-mounted swept wings and laser eyes. They'll start flying in formation, like they're the Thunderbirds at some municipal airshow. Except they'll launch bombs filled with even more spiders down on the populace.

The concept of flying spiders terrifies me. Spiders belong on a flat surface, where they are easily spotted and smashed repeatedly under the weight of a People magazine (for what other purpose does that magazine serve?). And behind that weight is my sheer force of will. And arachnophobia.

To sum it up, we're all doomed, and there's nothing that can be done about it. I mean, what could possibly be worse than flying spiders?

MECHA-SPIDERS.

. . . Oh teacakes.

Until next time, thanks for reading.

(Scary-giant squirrel photo: Mundo and Photoshoppix.)

If you didn't get that Dr. Strangelove reference, this was an awkward post for you. And I apologize for that. Now go watch it, and be enlightened.