A Tale Of Two Sisters

I have a little story to tell. It is a true story.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent.

There were two sisters who lived in the same apartment. The older sister was named Rachelle. The younger was named Jennifer. Rachelle was known to be serious and scholarly. Jennifer was outgoing and hotheaded. Generally, she was afraid of very little and was known for fighting battles for her older, more *dignified* sibling.

They both had one, very important thing in common: Their total, absolute, FEAR of eight-legged creatures.

They happened to be born into a family with strong genetic arachnophobia. In fact, their two *elder* aunts, Darlene and Alana, also possessed this strong genetic predisposition. In their younger days, they were known to damage walls and waste entire cans of hairspray on these critters. However, it was thought that the gene must have mutated a hundred fold because nothing and no one surpassed the fear that these two sisters, Rachelle and Jennifer had.

One dark, lonely night, these sisters were home alone. They were having a......disagreement...(they were known to have a *few* of these). The older one decided it was time to get into the shower. She grabbed a couple of clean towels, and with her glasses off - and thus half-blind state - noticed something black underneath one of the clean towels she had just dropped on the floor. To her dismay, it was a spider (although it looked like a dead spider). Totally freaked out, Rachelle jumped onto the toilet lid, because we all know that dead spiders are known to occasionally come back to life. She pounded the poor sucker with a broom (although how she got the broom while on the toilet seat remains a mystery.....), and then decided to spray it with half of a can of Raid. Just in case it was miraculously healed after the beating.

She then called her sister (whom she wasn't on the best of terms with at that moment....remember) because she needed moral support as well as a second opinion as to whether this was a dead spider or a fighting-for-life spider. And, whether it was the dead spider that still lay in another area of the floor of the bathroom (because dead spiders are just as intolerable as live ones and proper burials were not always given) or whether this was a second spider they were dealing with. Jennifer concluded that it was a SECOND spider, it's sibling lay in death elsewhere, and that she thought this spider looked dead to her (although she had a moment when she had second thoughts when trying to take a picture of the creature - for to her it looked alive through the lens of a camera....). Anyway, the final conclusion was reached that the ugly thing was dead. Five minutes of heated debate ensued as to who would clean it up (although I'm not sure why this one had to be cleaned up since it's sibling lay in another area of the bathroom floor, carelessly disregarded in death..). Rachelle thought Jennifer should since she killed it. Jennifer stated adamantly that she.would.NOT.

So, perched atop a stool (for the toilet lid by this time was becoming unstable), and still a teensy bit afraid this critter would yet pull a Lazarus, the eldest sibling very bravely took a broom and dust pan, put a kleenex on top of the dead spider (viewing of the body was unacceptable), and tried to sweep it into the dust pan. This proved very difficult, however, for the kleenex got soggy because of all of the Raid (literally leaving the floor WET), so the added assistance of Jennifer's flip flop (to Jennifer's SUPREME annoyance) finally put the creature onto the dustpan, where it eventually had it's burial in a sea of toilet water.

The tale does not end here, unfortunately, for just as Rachelle was about to get into the shower for a second time, Jennifer let out a shriek from her bedroom. Rachelle went into her sister's bedroom, knowing full well what the problem was going to be. On the wall in Jennifer's room was a monstrous-sized, fully ALIVE, crawling SPIDER. Totally ticked by this time, both at the offensive creature AND her sister's hysterics, for by this time the usually braver Jennifer was crying......Rachelle took the broom and whaled the living snot out of the spider. When she finally finished swinging, Jennifer had actually gone from crying to laughing hysterically. The sight of her benefactor viciously swinging her weapon was really too much.

Disaster struck again: It was discovered that the spider had gone missing. It was not on the floor or in the broom (although this was observed from about ten feet away, so one could not be totally sure). Jennifer was unsure whether or not it was actually dead or...hiding....and this proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Rachelle and Jennifer stayed that night at their parents.

This is the end of the story. Certainly not the end of *their* story. The question begs to be asked: If this gene mutates yet again, what will their offspring be like?

Note from the author: This account is factual. Anything resembling known persons is *purely coincidental*.