"Get the Skidoo!" My dad's voice pierces through the mundane television atmosphere of my home. My sister's finger trembling and pointing up towards the looming ceiling. A speck, a horrible malevolent speck. Out damn speck, out! The speck unawares sonically taps its eight legs across the white walled world. We all know what to do. My mother, my two sisters and I (after grabbing the can of poison) circle around like druids with our killing shoes. A trickle of sweat melting my dad's forehead, an outstretched, rigamortis arm. The poison, our savior, cocoons the evil intruder. A wobble eight-legged monster falls from its post to a camouflaged carpet below. "Oooh, Where is he?," we all shriek. The shoe falls. Over and over until the lifeless foul thing cannot be identified. Every piece of it's existence must be discarded with a pinch of protective tissue. Into the swirling waters and away--away from our home! We are triumphant, we are family. Don't mess with us. A ridiculous picture, a laugh. The silence, alpha rays and uncertainty wash over us.
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