Our shower is a wonderful space-age construction; all sliding curved glass and glowing white tiled walls. I almost expect it to speak to me with a mellifluous HAL voice… “Good morning John, I hope you enjoy your shower today…”
Thankfully it doesn’t and so I simply step in and slide the door shut. It does so with a satisfying technological ‘clunk’ reminiscent of an Audi advert. Vorsprung durch technic as we say in Penistone. I’m quite conscious of the amount of water that goes down the plug hole so I try to be as quick as I can these days and after a couple of minutes I grope for the tap and turn it off.
As I turn around, dripping, I catch sight of a dark shape near my feet. WTF? It’s a huge dead spider; waterlogged and bedraggled, it lies in a tangled mess. How the hell could I have missed that? I mean look at it… It’s fucking huge!
It’s far too big to flush down the plug hole. ‘ Oh well’ I think, I’ll deal with the carcass later, and reach through the door to grab a towel so I can get dry inside the cubicle but out of the draught. I’m done in a few moments and glance down at the monster whilst I ponder how to deal with it. But wait…..
….. It’s not there!
An irrational fear sweeps over me and in my minds eye this thing has grown to Alien Xenomorph proportions and is behind me or above me. It’s slimy extendible jaw is about to punch through my face. Or rip me in half, …. or… I spin around in the cubicle, skidding on the wet floor and flailing against the toughened glass walls….
…..It’s there! Hiding behind the shampoo bottle.
I regain my composure and finish towelling down. Later I return to the cubicle and gently assist its escape with some toilet tissue. I watch it as it scuttles off into a dark corner of the bathroom….. now you may call me a wuss but that, ladies and gentlemen, was above and beyond the call of duty. Ripley would have been proud of me.