A Fistful of Nerf Darts
We all know that spiders think only of killing and death all day. While I believe that they are fundamentally evil, I have made concessions so that I don't have to carry out the task of killing all spiders; partially out of laziness, partially out of fear of spiders, and partially because it's not my place to run about killing an entire order of creepy, creepy, disgusting animal. This concession is embodied as a rule, as are most of the tenets that guide me through life.
My rule regarding spiders is simple: If there is a spider in my house or personal space, it must die; if it is outside, then it is left alone. Though I know I will not live long enough to see this happen, I would hope that with enough practitioners of this rule spiders would evolve to no longer seek refuge in warm, cozy, human occupied spaces, but instead stay outside where it is safe for them.
Now, when it comes to the actual killing of a spider, I need to admit that I am terrified of spiders. My normal approach to spider disposal involves one or two of my three Nerf guns. From across the room I launch a deadly barrage of nerf darts. Once crippled, incapacitated, or just straight up dead, I run over and crush it with any means possible both to end its suffering, but also to assure that it never, ever, ever comes back.
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