So tonight I had an opportunity to rise up and be a man. Not a man of mere flesh and bone, mind you. No.

A man of perfectly-sculpted plastic. The kind of macho man my bride dreamed about in preschool when her Ken doll would swoop in to rescue her Malibu Barbie from her latest moment of peril.

This night, I was no longer Hubby. I was Spider Sniper Ken.

Let me recreate the scene.

In the kitchen, an obnoxiously-large spider scurries across the ceiling. Malibu Barbie whisper-screams for her hero. Spider Sniper Ken courageously and selflessly leaves the couch, abandoning his March Madness commitments.

He saunters in the kitchen, and surveys the situation….

Target too high to reach. Counter too high to climb, due to aching joints from couch-sitting. Time for Plan B.

Step 1: Grab a glossy flyer from today’s mail out of the trash.

Step 2: Swat at the target, knocking it to the floor.

Step 3: Frantically look for target on floor.

Step 4: Frantically keep looking for target in other rooms.

Step 5: Explain to Malibu Barbie that spiders are more afraid of us than…

Never mind.

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