alligator eats jogger

My girlfriend, Lorna, has a deep reverence for life- or at least a strong aversion to death. Unfortunately, she also has a strong aversion to most creepy-crawly things, which means that a moral crisis arises every time a bug, no matter its size, finds its way into her apartment. I am generally happy to play the role of non-lethal bug-rehabitator, relocating insects from the hostile environment of her apartment to the wild outdoors. However, I am not without my own compulsions, and so there is one bug that I refuse to peaceably remove. All spiders, no matter how small, must be killed. I refuse to harmlessly move our ancient enemy, the arachnid. Normally, this bothers lorna, but her fear of the insects gets in the way of her fear of hurting them, so she solves the problem very effectively by leaving the room and pretending she doesnapos;t know whatapos;s going on (stomping, smashing, burning, freezing, flushing, etc.). Ignorance is bliss; feigned ignorance is... The next best thing.
Sometimes even feigned ignorance is not an option, though. Like yesterday, when lorna discovered a black widow (ach and a big one) living in the corner outside the door, its web actually encompassing the doorframe. I myself was briefly incapacitated by the discovery of the deadly encroacher. My ordinary methods of personal combat, hitting with a shoe until dead, were rendered ineffective by this most terrifying of foes-- hitting with a shoe until dead-- requires a degree of personal proximity that I wasnapos;t prepared to take. Hitting the monster with a broom would have been risky enough. What we needed was a mantis.
Aside: few weeks ago, I had about thirty bugs- spiders, daddy longlegses, other crawlers- living in the area around the entryway to my house. One morning on my way to work, I noticed a big green preying mantis sitting on the door, praying. By the time I got back from work, every single one of those bugs was gone, as was the mantis. A bug with an enormous apetite and mad skills at kung-fu, the mantis is the type of insect I like. He might even have been a match for ms. Widow, if he was bold enough to penetrate her webby lair.
Sadly, we couldnapos;t find one of these heroic bugs, so I was forced to decide, reluctantly, and reluctantly forced lorna to agree with me, that chemical warfare was the only option. Itapos;s always a risky proposition using insecticides, and itapos;s one I avoid whenever possible. First there are the moral issues- although really, how much honor can we afford to have when fighting as honorless an enemy as the spider? Second the possibilities of grim repercussions, like accidentally poisoning yourself, or, worse, the spiders getting hold of the poison and spraying you to death when you least expect it. Worst of all, though, are the risks demonstrated to us by science. Scientists have discovered that bacteria, exposed frequently to penicillin, develop an immunity to it. By exposing our ancient enemy to manmade poisons, we risk creating, at length, the Super-Spider: immune to all forms of poison, and resistant to stomping. Yes, itapos;s possible that being bitten by the super-spider would turn us into spiderman- but itapos;s much more likely that it would just subject us to a fate worse than death (ie. Paralysis, while the fluids are gradually sucked out of you by the thirsty fangs of our foe).
In the case of the widow, the risks were warranted. A further spraying around the door, hopefully, will prevent others of its ilk from coming near. I canapos;t be certain, however. The only sure guard against the arachnid is Constant Vigilance
alligator eats jogger, alligator eats human, alligator eats golfer.