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The Story That May End My Marriage

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As I sit down to write this blog, I know only one thing: If you have never encountered a Spricket, you should consider yourself lucky. Also, I hate you.
This is not one of those moments where I tell you not EVER to Google the word “spricket” and you run off and immediately Google the word “spricket” and then come back and yell at me for putting the thought in your head even though I specifically said DO NOT EVER GOOGLE THE WORD SPRICKET!

Don’t do it. I’ve seen the beasts and even I won’t Google them. Be satisfied (and not scarred for life) with the following description: Demon Spider/Cricket hybrid from HELL!!!!!!!!!
Also known as: cave crickets
Also known as: total assholes

For anyone afraid of spiders, these mother fuckers are basically their worst nightmare. They are spiders that jump. And they seem to crave human flesh. I can’t confirm if that last part is true, but after this weekend, I think it’s safe to say the spricket apocalypse has begun. Either that, or my husband has a death wish.

This is the story of why my husband is lucky he is still breathing, and not buried in the back yard with sprickets eating his remains.

The scene: Saturday night. Catching up on the DVR while partaking in a few adult drinks.
The players: Me. Husband. Lurking danger.

It was late in the evening, so while I wasn’t exactly shithoused, I wouldn’t say I was exactly in control of all of my facets. Like most people, at my first party where the alcohol was flowing, I was quickly told never to “break the seal”- for once you did, you’d be feeling the urge to pee CONSTANTLY. Add two vaginal childbirths to that equation, and on drinky-drink nights, I’m pissing like a damn racehorse. I’m lucky I haven’t wet the friggin’ couch!

Anyway, so there I am, nearly launching myself off of the toilet with a pee stream that would make all other pee streams jealous when I see it. A fucking SPRICKET. Just sittin’ there on my bathroom floor like he owns the place. My bathroom is small, y’all. Like- I could prop my feet against the wall if I really needed leverage to get a big turd out. It’s THAT small. This mofo was not only in my home, but had now invaded my personal bubble. THIS IS NOT OKAY.

Normally, this would scare the pee back into me and I’d have flown out of that bathroom faster than monkeys in a freight train. No, that makes no sense, but you get my point. I’d have been OUT! I couldn’t stop the stream! I JUST COULDN’T! I was trapped!

At this point, I’m frozen in fear. Other than my pee. That was still going. I’m afraid to move because if I move, it will move, and I do not want it to move! There was only one thing I could think to do- I yelled for my beloved husband. He kills those evil fuckers for me all the time. This would be no different. I mean, I’d be on the toilet and it might be kind of awkward to squash a bug while there’s pee draining from me- but yeah, he could totally save the day! I was okay with a little bit of shame- so I called out to him, and he’s all “What?” and I say “THERE’S A SPRICKET IN HERE, COME AND KILL IT!” and he’s like “Why don’t you?” and I’m completely flustered at this point and I yell “I’M PEEING! I HAVE NOTHING TO KILL IT WITH! YOU COME KILL IT RIGHT NOW!” and he’s laughing and making his way to the outside of the bathroom door claiming he isn’t going to come in and help me when that rotten little shitdick (the spricket, not the husband) JUMPS IN MY LAP.
IT JUMPED IN MY FUCKING LAP! WHILE I WAS PEEING. MY NAKED LAP. IT FUCKING JUMPED IN IT!

Does my husband swoop in and slay the foul beast, thereby saving me and my pee stream? No. He laughs hysterically while I scream and flail and pretty much die 4 times over trying to get that thing OFF of me. Pee, shame, and anger. I was full of all of those things. Poor bladder.

NOW we can call the husband a shitdick. Frickin’ husband. What the hell are they good for if they can’t even manage to smash a disgusting bug for us??

I spent the rest of the night shaken, paranoid, pissed off AND on, and wanting to stab my dear husband in the taint with a spork for not coming to my rescue. I’ve been trying to come up with some kind of moral to this story since then so that I could walk away from this situation with something OTHER than a lovely new phobia of peeing, but I’m hard pressed to find a bright spot, so other than the giggles I hope you got from this harrowing tale, I will leave you with this:

Don’t break the damn seal! And for the love of all that is holy, don’t Google “spricket”!!

Posted on October 13, 2014 by Holdin' Holden 12 Comments
Holdin' Holden

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12 Comments

  • hahahah moral of the story… Don’t break the seal, I love it!!

  • That is horrific. I admit I laughed but how horrible! I did Google sprickets.
    How can you not? I am so happy to be living in a more northern climate.
    Thank you for the chuckle. I do love your amazing sense of humour.
    Catherine.
    Mother of 4 daughters aged 5-10

  • Oh gosh I feel so bad for you having to experience that!!! The detail you told your story made me cringe, shriek, and giggle. Great blog Jenny, I hope your hubby makes it up to you with a date night and copious amounts of booze.

  • OMG of course I have to be a rebel and google “spricket”….I have never heard the term before and going to nursing school has made me feel like nothing can scare me anymore….MAN I WAS WRONG…these things are what nightmares are made of!! But on a brighter note you made my whole night, thanks for the laugh and stay safe!

  • I am a direction follower so I will not be Googling Spricket.
    I was reading this while I was peeing though so I did have a looky-loo for anything trying to kill me and I am safe… for now. Thanks for the laughs and for emptying my bladder that much faster 🙂

  • I HAD to Google Sprickets…where I used to live we got them inside the house every Spring and Fall…I feel your pain! During those times of the year, I never went into the bathroom without a spare shoe. I’ve been known to throw that spare shoe at them only to have them jump at me for doing it! (I don’t have a hubby to slay the dragons for me!) Good luck coming up with the perfect revenge!!!

  • Oh man! How awful is that?!?!?!

    I feel bad for laughing as hard as I just did!

  • I like spiders and sprickets. They’re adorable. 🙁

  • Omg…nope no nooo mm Mmm no

  • Haha!! I know exactly what you’re talking about, however ever since my husband’s and my first encounter with them, we are equ ally afraid. We’re smokers and would smoke in our old garage instead of the house. We were out there one night and there was something crawling/jumping across towards me and I screamed and asked him what the fuck it was. He freaked out too, minus the scream. He was too scared to step on it or smash it with a shoe, so he grabbed a gallon jug of water. As he dropped it on the thing from 5 ft high, the fucked jumped up and it the bottom of the jug before it met it’s doom and straight scared the shit out of both of us. After that, we left the water jug, in place the whole time and never moved it. Even when we moved out, we cleaned around it and left with the water jug still there LoL. Looking back it cracks me the hell up remembering how high my hubby jumped when the fucked jumped and hit the water jug.

  • oh boy, I live in jersey.. I know those little devil spawn all too well. They live under my house. I don’t go under there since I fell through the subflooring while renovating. Why? If one makes you run, imagine hundreds. All of them in their blind, person sensing fury of ‘you have invaded our home fleshbeast! We must devour you!’ I did everything I could to not panic and quickly exited the new shortcut to the crawl space, and let husband deal with replacement of suds and subflooring. No matter what time of year though, those hell spawn on springs invade my bathroom. When I had cats, I thought, oh, let the cats hunt them like they would when we lived in Florida and hunted palmetto bugs. (An aside, palmetto bugs are a roach haters worst nightmare, they are large, very hard to kill, and can fly! FML) well, turns out those fuckers don’t go down so well, my cats learned after vomiting a few of them up, they are nasty little shits and not worth it. So I was still left with them sitting in the bottom of my shower, waiting to pounce upon my naked flesh as I blindly stepped in, sans glasses, only to hightail it through the house in a desperate search for something to kill the foul buggy with.
    So yeah, I feel you on that.

  • And that is why I will never live wherever you live which apparently is also where sprickets live because I would probably destroy my kidneys before ever peeing again. That is terrifying. Hilarious, but terrifying.