"No, Owl, you're not done yet."

"But Moooom . . . I already finished the lawn, and I just want to go to the beach!"

"First you need to knock down the spiders and the webs from under the eaves.  Take the broom and the vacuum cleaner and sweep them up. Then you can go."

"Isn't there anything else I can do, you know . . . besides that?"

"That's what I need you to do.  Knock them down with the broom.  Suck them up with the vacuum cleaner.  Or just suck them up with the vacuum cleaner and sweep the webs off."

"Can't I just use the hose?"

"No, Owl, that just makes the webs wet and even stickier.  Besides, all the windows are open, and I'd like to keep them that way."

". . ."

Mom stopped and turned away from the dishes to give me the look - laser blue eyes one millimeter from Serious Aggravation.  Even from behind, Mom's patented Look of Serious Aggravation was capable of freezing my brothers and I in our tracks from across a gym full of noisy kids. Our friends were not-so-secretly scared of her, and they'd never even heard her yell.

"Nothing.  I'm just scared of spiders, is all."

Mom sighed.

"Look, Owl.  We've been through this since you were what . . . six?  Brown recluses are the only known poisonous spider this far north, and they're extremely rare.  They only like dark enclosed spaces.  Are there any dark enclosed spaces under the eaves that you could reach with a broom?"

"No, but . . . "

Her yellow-rubber-gloved hands were on her hips.  Not a good sign.  I gulped.

"But what?"

"Um . . . where is the extension cord?"

"Garage.  Thank you, Owl."  She turned back to the sink.

From my room, I grabbed my baseball hat and put it on, turned backwards to shield the back of my neck.  A bandanna tied like a bankrobber's covered my nose and mouth, and was long enough to keep anything from dropping down the front of my shirt. On my way out to the garage, I got the cannister vacuum from the hall closet.  Passing through the kitchen, Mom glanced around at me and shook her head. 

I also put on Dad's work gloves, just to be safe.  And I did pretty well, starting with the patio which was covered by wavy green fiberglass panels screwed to 2"x6" framing.  Not bad, anyway.  Mostly I let the long nozzle remove the fat, looming spiders, then swept the webs out.  I moved around the back of the house, deliberately not thinking of Charlotte's Web . . .  

It was a little trickier as the roof rose on the end, but I reached as high as I could, on around the field-stone chimney, on around to the front of the house, past the living room picture window . . . toward the home stretch at the dining room window . . .

It looked like a cocoon, softly wrapped and stuck like discarded gum right where the wall met the eave.  It almost glistened in the early afternoon light.  But at the faintest touch of the broom bristles, it erupted . . . MILLIONS of dark pinheads with legs . . .

"AAAaaaaaaaaaaagh!!!"

Mom must have heard me, because she met me, mid-sprint, in the breezeway.

"OWL!  What happened???"

I pulled down my bandana, huffing with adrenaline.

"Spiders.  Millions of them.  They're after me."

Mom put her hands on my shoulders.

"Wait here."

She rustled around on the shelves by the washer and dryer, returned and placed an aerosol can in my hands.

"Raid?"

"Spray them first, ask questions later.  Suck them up with the vacuum."

I replaced my face mask.

I could tell she was in no mood to hear about the Spider Mafia.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, I was about to commit infanticide.  I knew I would be marked for life.  And there is almost no place on this planet to run from the Spider Mafia.

That night I had my first spider dream . . . spider mothers keening for their children . . . an exploding vacuum bag of revenge . . . maniacal spider laughter . . .

I was doomed.

*I don't know where this song originates, though I tried to find out.  It used to be the theme song for a radio show on NPR in the late 70's and/or early 80's.