Spidey

8 Sep

On my way to work last Friday, traffic was at a standstill in front of the new Medical City along Ortigas Avenue. I was sitting in my car in silence, in deep thought about what I wanted to accomplish that day, when I heard this faint, but shrill choral screaming that could only come from colegiala’s (having been one, I knew all to well). I turned to see half the children in the crowded St. Paul’s College school bus pointing to me and my car, shrieking. I checked …

Was I running on a flat tire? — No.

Was a runaway truck about to hit me? — No.

Did I have a guy in hockey mask and a chainsaw in the back seat? — No.

Did I look THAT bad without make-up? — Hmmm.

My questions were answered half a minute later. A ginormous, hairy spider with long, thick legs crawled down from the roof of my car and crept across the windshield. First thought: A tarantula on my windshield? Cool. There might be rattlers in the trunk. I was tempted to open the wipers to squoosh it; but freaking out the girly girls was just too much fun. By the time I got to my parking space, Spidey was perched quietly on my sideview mirror. If I had Tupperware, I would have put him in my purse, taken him to the 31st floor and tested who among the men at the office could scream the loudest.

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