Let me tell you a little something about the Z man, the "Z man" being myself. When I get on a job I get busy getting things done. True, most of those things are not actually qualified as work, or are even remotely related to what I am supposed to be doing, but man, I will tell you that I can focus on not getting work done unlike anyone you have ever seen. It'll be like, "Zack, can you file these for me?" And I'll be like, "Yeah I'm on it." And then I go online and watch ridiculous Japanese performances for the next eight hours. Like these:
Sometimes, however, my tangents become less constructive and I end up looking at things which were never meant for human eyes. This is usually due to my unusual interest in knowing what to do in a hypothetical situations. Like if I were face to face with a giant spider. I say this because the other day I was suddenly inspired to research spiders. Specifically giant spiders. Huge ones. Preferably poisonous. My interest was spurred when I saw this:
Looking at a photo like that is kind of the opposite of seeing a photo of Santa Claus when you're a kid. If you saw a photo of Santa you'd say, "Well, I better believe it's the real thing, cause if it ain't I'd be disappointed." Except in this case you'd say, "I hope to God that isn't real because if it is I need to board up my house immediately."
So here is where the story really begins.
This past weekend I was going to be a councilor on a Junior High retreat, so I wanted to get everything in order before I left town. Driving up to the store, I looked at the dashboard and realized my to-do list needed to include getting gas. So stopping off at the nearest gas station, I stopped the car, got out, and flipped open the panel covering the gas tank. I then turned around, lifted the gas nozzle out of the holder and then turned back to the car.
Then I froze in place.
There, in the dead center of the cap covering the gas tank, a reasonably large brown spider swayed back and forth, apparently attempting to make his current living situation a more comfortable one.
Taking a step back I mentally ran through the various options, not unlike a choose your own adventure novel.
1. If you decided to brush the spider away with your hand, Turn To Page 13.
2. If you decided to brush the spider away with the gas nozzle, Turn To Page 13.
3. If you decided to drown the spider by spraying it with gasoline, Turn To Page 13.
4. If you decided to cowardly hop back in the car and drive away, Turn to Page 14.
Page 13: The spider jumps straight at your face, causing you to scream like a little school girl and spray gasoline everywhere. This will prove to be far more disastrous when the gasoline slowly creeps towards an open flame which results in an explosion that engulfs you and the entire neighborhood. The spider survives.
Page 14: You survive to see another day.
Yes. I chose page 14. I used the gas nozzle to close the gas cover, looked both ways, and quietly edged my way back to the drivers seat. I felt uneasy about driving away from the gas station after having been there for no more than five minutes, but grew increasingly more uneasy after imagining the brown spider crawling up through the side window, or through the air conditioning vent, or that it was on me at that very moment crawling up my neck.
Sure, you might call me a coward, but think about all those people at the gas station. They had no idea what they were in for. They could all be in a crater right now if I hadn't been the bigger man and left the spider for my dad or sister-in-law to deal with. I'm a hero. An unsung hero. No, I don't need a medal, unless you want to give one to me or have one offhand. I don't need that. The Z man doesn't require any awards for his heroism.
So if you'd excuse me, I have some Japanese performance videos I have to watch.