I know you appreciate the sheer insanity of Florida wildlife, so it was my duty to regale you with a telling of the events that took place only moments ago.
There I was, minding my own business, when out of the corner of my eye, I spot movement. A mixture of dread and anxiety boils in my gut, as I know the cause of the movement before I even move my eyes it's direction. An icy shiver runs down my spine as I watch the eight legged abomination casually strolling across my bed. My mind races. What do I do? Do I kill it right here? I watch as the fiend crawls towards the edge of the bed. I must strike before it is too late.
I search for any weapon with which to vanquish my foe. A paperback book! To no avail, I awkwardly slap at the spider as It effortlessly dodges my attack. Now I understand the origins of Anderson Silva's moniker. Suddenly it lunges in my direction, but makes a fatal miscaculation and falls short. Oh how the tables have turned. I grab the half full water bottle off my desk and strike down the beast. My vengeance is swift and I grant the arachnid a honorable death.
So I'm sitting here alone in darkness. I know I must sleep, but the fear is still with me. How does one rest after such a harrowing experience?