The Carter Monologue

I’ve never been the biggest fan of bugs; well at least ones that bite. Adorable ladybugs? Yeah! Mint green grasshoppers? Why not? Slugs, butterflies, even bees, wasps are all and more that I’m fine with. But then there’s the munching fleas, the mosquitoes, the roaring cicadas, the horse flies. All of them: lewd and appalling. But we have a queen of everything! Queen of England, Queen of hip hop (It’s Nicki Minaj), and the oh-so wonderfully atrocious spider, the Queen of my nightmares. Now I never was always this petrified of spiders, until I was bitten by one when I was ten. I wasn’t poisoned, but it’s a horrid pain I try my best not to experience again.

But they eat house bugs and only attack when attacked. What made you so scared of them?
It’s finally summer and I’m at Tiffany Springs Water Park enjoying the tropical heat with a couple of my friends. For right now, you will only need to know Carter. By this time we’ve all had our fun splashing, and swimming in the chilled June water. At this moment I decide since we’re going to leave soon, it’s best if I sunbathe. Yes, I know sunbathing isn’t healthy and I’m quite tan already (I’m black, so), but I didn’t want it to look like it rained in the car when three of my friends ransack and rest in the vehicle, sopping wet after a long day, and it’s quite a calming way to pass the time while I dry. So at this moment I’m laying down on those rubbery lawn chairs, soaking up the sun with earbuds that I put in to listen to Fall Out Boy. While I unwind from the tedious exercise of swimming, I can lastly observe Tiffany Springs and soak up all of it’s glory at the end of my summer. People of all ages bobbed in the water like lotus’ in Monet’s painting. All of them with shining and sparkling smiles as they play and laze in the crystal water. The best part of this all is the sun’s amiable rays, balmy and toasty as it poured down kissing my skin and everything in sight. I exhale today’s stresses away as I’m lulled to bliss by my serene bearings. But all things must come to an end, and now something-or someone-comes down to block me from the sun, rattling me from my tranquil slumber. As I peel my eyes open I see
“But there’s a spider on your leg and I’m going to kill it.”
Surely there it rested on my upper thigh, right by my left hip. My muscles tense within me as I let out a barely audible gasp. At this moment my hands are thrown up and I let out a wimpy scream. The spider moves more, now above my hip from my movement and speech. This is where my mistake took place. I could have swept the arachnid off with a towel or hand. Carter thought differently. Let’s swat at my friend with a 500 page book to kill a spider! It’ll surely work out!
It doesn’t. And now the vermin skitters up my stomach as I howl in pain after feeling the wrath of JK Rowling’s bestseller. So I do what everyone does when you’re afraid. I jump around and swing my arms in every direction hoping that I might just get this spider off me. I’m sure to you that I seemed to be jumping around as if I was in a rodeo. But from my rapid, stressed movements, my foot becomes stuck in one of the folds of the chair, causing me to fall on the bags next to what was my leisure bed. I lay in a diagonal angle with one foot free from my trap and the other stuck as the other half of my body touches the steaming cement ground. But there’s the spider, right there on my chest and I’m sure if I just slap it then this will all be over. Here is when my luck runs out; the arachnid bounds for an escape