Not to get too philosophical here, but fear makes people do abhorrent things, things one would normally never even consider. For example:
I love spiders! Spiders and I have always had a great relationship. When I find one in my house, I carefully catch it and free it outside to go forth and take care of the planet, eating all the bugs that are truly creepy like earwigs.
I really am fond of spiders. Except one. This one in my house this morning was a real jerk.
In my usual careful and courteous way, I bent down with a glass to catch the little douche bag so he could have a wonderful life outside. That’s when I realized… this guy was destined to die. He started chasing me, I swear on a stack of Prince albums. He ran –scurried menacingly—right at me!
Well, what’s a full-grown woman who has lived through wars and famines and divorce do when threatened with certain death? (Ok, just divorce. And even that was amicable.) The details become hazy, but this I can tell you. That fucking spider chased me around in circles! I am not sure how many circles, or how long this went on, but I am pretty sure I was screaming. (Ok, I know for a fact I was screaming.)
In retrospect, maybe the spider wasn’t trying to kill me. Maybe he thought he was getting away from me and when we were running around in circles, he was trying to run away from me and screaming like an idiot, too.
That thought makes me feel really bad for killing him. Dang it. I’m sorry, little guy! Rest in peace and enjoy heavenly juicy flies in the afterlife.
I think I need to get a job.