After my first encounter with a Brown Recluse, I was always convinced there was another spider lurking somewhere in my room at my grandparents.  The first I figured was probably dead, because the doctor said he’d left its fang in my arm.  The thought of a spider loosing its fang in my arm seems a bit strange to me now, but when I was eight, I was happy to hear the spider had suffered, too.  Still, even if one spider was gone, thanks to my Uncle Johnny, I was always afraid there might be another.  So I made my dad check between the sheets and underneath the bed every night for any possible spiders, before I’d even consider going to sleep. 

Read this story in its entirety