Transient
Arachnosquire
- Joined
- Oct 1, 2011
- Messages
- 67
Warning: Contains me being disrespectful and mischievous.
Alright. If you've read my other thread you know that my mother won't let me keep tarantulas in the house. After quite a bit of trying to compromise I realized it's futile. But I am a rude, mean child and refuse to be deterred.
For a while I've been thinking about the five gallon tank that's been sitting in my barn a quarter of a mile away. Well, today my mom and her friends went out for lunch and I happened to feel especially sneaky so the moment she left I threw on a coat and set out to fetch it. The Ts I want are actually available in the sizes I wanted, so that should have been my first clue that things are going to go all cock-eyed on me at any given moment. I set off down a grassy trail through my backyard anyway.
The moment I reach the barn, a huge St. Bernard comes out and growls at me. My train of thought goes like this:
Oh god, why
It's going to maul me
I deserve this I am such a bad daughter
That dog is cute I want to pet it
My brain goes into "I'm so scared I can no longer make rational decisions." mode and I said hi to it. It and another dog that materialized out of nowhere run at me and right as I acknowledge and accept that my life is over, they start wagging their tails and turn out to be friendly. So after that things should go smooth right?
No.
I find the tank, and it turns out my brain must've deleted a one because it's not a five gallon, but fifteen. And it's full of snake accessories. And it's glass. I take it off the stand and start dragging the heavy load across the dirt, and up til that point had been ignoring their barking in the background. Then I heard my neighbor shouting. I drop the tank and run and crouch down as he approaches to tell the dogs off. I'm convinced he's going to find me, immediately know what I'm up to and he's going to tell my mother and she'll kill me and of course I'm going to die trying to get a tarantula, that is just so like me.
I squatted in the dirt for about ten minutes. He was about seven feet from me at least and if me sneaking to get a tank wasn't odd enough, finding the tiny neighbor girl rolled in a ball in a barn, staring at you like an owl would just generally put me in a zone of crazy not formerly known to this man. But he left, so I continued my endeavor.
Wait, there's more! I knew time was running out to get this tank to my house and hide it before my mother returned. I didn't bother emptying the tank but instead just grabbed the edge and dragged it, quarter of a mile, through tall grass, with my squishy stick arms that haven't experienced exercise since I was 16. I got it to my back deck without being spotted by the neighbor on the way, and proceeded to dump the contents out and give it a quick brush-off. I tossed out the bedding and fake leaves, and I found a brand new unused heating mat, a water dish, and a hide so that was good. Then death came.
My mother and her friends actually drove around on another trail and past the barn, and if I didn't haul my butt inside with a quickness I would be caught and therefore dead. At this point my adrenaline turn me into She-Hulk and I doubt I'll ever be able to move so fast again in my life. I met my mother face-to-face right as I closed my bedroom door, blocking the tank from sight.
Long story short, there is a big ol' tank in my room that I went through a LOAD to get.
Also I am ordering four Ts.
Good times.
Alright. If you've read my other thread you know that my mother won't let me keep tarantulas in the house. After quite a bit of trying to compromise I realized it's futile. But I am a rude, mean child and refuse to be deterred.
For a while I've been thinking about the five gallon tank that's been sitting in my barn a quarter of a mile away. Well, today my mom and her friends went out for lunch and I happened to feel especially sneaky so the moment she left I threw on a coat and set out to fetch it. The Ts I want are actually available in the sizes I wanted, so that should have been my first clue that things are going to go all cock-eyed on me at any given moment. I set off down a grassy trail through my backyard anyway.
The moment I reach the barn, a huge St. Bernard comes out and growls at me. My train of thought goes like this:
Oh god, why
It's going to maul me
I deserve this I am such a bad daughter
That dog is cute I want to pet it
My brain goes into "I'm so scared I can no longer make rational decisions." mode and I said hi to it. It and another dog that materialized out of nowhere run at me and right as I acknowledge and accept that my life is over, they start wagging their tails and turn out to be friendly. So after that things should go smooth right?
No.
I find the tank, and it turns out my brain must've deleted a one because it's not a five gallon, but fifteen. And it's full of snake accessories. And it's glass. I take it off the stand and start dragging the heavy load across the dirt, and up til that point had been ignoring their barking in the background. Then I heard my neighbor shouting. I drop the tank and run and crouch down as he approaches to tell the dogs off. I'm convinced he's going to find me, immediately know what I'm up to and he's going to tell my mother and she'll kill me and of course I'm going to die trying to get a tarantula, that is just so like me.
I squatted in the dirt for about ten minutes. He was about seven feet from me at least and if me sneaking to get a tank wasn't odd enough, finding the tiny neighbor girl rolled in a ball in a barn, staring at you like an owl would just generally put me in a zone of crazy not formerly known to this man. But he left, so I continued my endeavor.
Wait, there's more! I knew time was running out to get this tank to my house and hide it before my mother returned. I didn't bother emptying the tank but instead just grabbed the edge and dragged it, quarter of a mile, through tall grass, with my squishy stick arms that haven't experienced exercise since I was 16. I got it to my back deck without being spotted by the neighbor on the way, and proceeded to dump the contents out and give it a quick brush-off. I tossed out the bedding and fake leaves, and I found a brand new unused heating mat, a water dish, and a hide so that was good. Then death came.
My mother and her friends actually drove around on another trail and past the barn, and if I didn't haul my butt inside with a quickness I would be caught and therefore dead. At this point my adrenaline turn me into She-Hulk and I doubt I'll ever be able to move so fast again in my life. I met my mother face-to-face right as I closed my bedroom door, blocking the tank from sight.
Long story short, there is a big ol' tank in my room that I went through a LOAD to get.
Also I am ordering four Ts.
Good times.