The expedition went smoothly at first, walking to the neighbors sidewalk where the mangled remains... um... remained. Conversation renewed, commentary was made regarding the beasts magnitude, thoughts were put forth on the forthrightness of the neighbor ladies involved. All in all, a most agreeable nights entertainment before heading back to our well deserved rest. We began the retreat to our domicile, and in fact had renewed the conversation when we realized one of our number was no longer present!
This Brazilian, emboldened by our earlier success had remained outdoors, to poke around and see what else was around outside. Well. I could have told him what a bad idea that was. Who knows what Lovecraftian horrors were lurking out there in the darkness? What eldritch horrors, that would rip out a mans sanity from just a single gaze upon their twisted visages? And twisted, eldritch horrors were exactly what he found, in the form of Spiderzilla's mate, lying in wait on our doorstep with fangs at the ready.
We were alerted to this fact by the... less than manly screams of our companion. Now, to be fair, this Tarantula was at least as large, if not larger than its compatriot. Its black eyes were probably sparkling balefully as it gazed on our quaking forms. I mean, it was pretty dark, and we didn't have a porch light, so I couldn't really tell, but... most likely baleful. Entirely full of bales, if I had to guess.
Having become alerted to this demon-in-spider form, we sprang immediately into action by jumping up and down, yelling at each other, and telling each other what to do in no uncertain terms. I was hindered by the fact that I barely spoke any portuguese, and settled for circling the outside of the commotion, yelling incomprehensibly, and hoping I didn't catch the spiders eye(s).
It took us much longer than the forceful ladies next door, but eventually, we settled on a course of action. Those ladies, of course, went with the direct and aggressive Sandal-to-the-Head-Fu. We were somewhat hampered in the sandal offense by all of us being entirely unwilling to get close enough to the spider to hit it with a sandal. So we settled on using our apartments dilapidated broom, which we then took turns using to beat the holy Moses out of Bride of Spiderzilla.
We were probably scared of something like this happening.
Now, that seemed to have solved the problem. Bride of Spiderzilla was little more than a twisted mass of hair and evil, and I decided to retire to the shower (a twice-daily necessity in those tropical climes.) However, once I got done, I was immediately regaled with tales of the undead! Bride of Spiderzilla had returned from the dead and attempted vengeance, and my roommates had been forced to go head-to-head with a tarantula using nothing but our trusty boom once more.
Now, in horror movies, you can see what will happen next, and you can hear the music building. The hero ignores all good sense and returns to the monsters lair, passing through creaking doorways, past racks of torture equipment and KFC buckets full of human eyeballs. And of course you scream at the screen: "No! Why would you go in there! That doesn't even make sense!" Well, let me tell you a life lesson. Curiosity is what leads to more ill-advised decisions than maybe anything else in the world. You think "I wonder what is in the basement of this poorly-maintained shack in the middle of the woods?" And the next thing you know you are running for your life through the woods from a man with terrible personal hygiene and a hook for a hand.
Point being, it was curiosity that led me outside again to see the mangled remains of the Bride of Spiderzilla. And just like the mangled monster in a horror movie, Bride of Spiderzilla crawled back to life one more time, just to make sure I would never trust anything ever again.
And that, my friends, is the story of how I lit fire to the porch of a Brazilian apartment in the middle of the night.
