When I was a child, my family would regularly visit relatives in Arkansas. The land was still pretty wild then and it hasn't changed all that much today. One night, while coming back from my aunt's home, my parents suddenly pulled the station wagon over to the side of the desolate gravel road. Under the headlight beams, in the middle of the road was a large tarantula- about the size of the average adult hand. It didn't seem too bothered by the attention, perhaps it was cold and therefore, sluggish. For a tarantula, it had a lot going for it, hairy and black as a lump of coal. Its forelegs stroking the ground like a blind harpist.
My brother was adamant about it almost from the moment he laid eyes on the creature. He HAD TO have it. Nobody, he explained, would believe him without some kind of proof. My parents finally- against their common sense and all notions of family safety - were persuaded. So, under his direction, we emptied the first aid kit and maneuvered the little beast into the metal box. Somehow, we drove back to the city with that monster in the same car with us. I really don't see how all of us retained our composure on the six hour journey. One scream and I have no doubt all of us would have bolted from that speeding automobile in all directions.
Finally, we arrived back in our suburban home late that Sunday evening. My older brother would from time to time peer into the box and the very next day, he marched off to school with the metal box under his arm. When he returned home at the end of the day, my mother was somewhat surprised that my brother no longer had the first aid box with him.
"What did you do with it?"
My brother smiled, mostly to himself and finally said, "I sold it."
To accompany my feeble spider tale, I have this odd link for you to play with. http://www.onemotion.com/flash/spider/