Jack Stallard

The texts started arriving early Thursday morning.

“They’re coming for you,” said one message.

“Bet I know where I WON’T find you this weekend,” said another.

“We’ll pray for you,” said a third text, with a goofy smiley face added so I knew my “friend” was messing with me.

All three of the texts included a headline and photo from a centerpiece story in the Longview News-Journal’s @play section about an exotic reptile and pet show Saturday and today at the Longview Exhibit Building.

Before I continue, let me set the record straight. Contrary to popular belief among my family and friends, I am not afraid of spiders and snakes. I simply don’t like them, and don’t want to be in the same room, city or state or on the same planet with them.

Evidently, some folks think when I see a photo of a spider or snake or if a spider or snake crawls or slithers within 10 feet of me, I scream and run away, trampling anything that happens to be in my path.

I’m not going to say that hasn’t happened, but it only occurred the times a Brown Reclusive Widowed Tarantula or Copperheaded Water Rattling Cobra actually crawled on my hand or slithered across my foot.

That’s not fear. That’s called survival instinct, and I won’t apologize for it. I also won’t apologize for adopting a non-negotiable policy when it comes to spiders and snakes.

If it doesn’t have shoulders — or if it has shoulders that connect to eight legs — it has to die.

There are those people who will tell you we need spiders and snakes, and that most spiders and snakes do more good than harm by consuming other harmful insects and rodents and keeping those populations in check.

I know that, and I don’t care. I said what I said.

I also shrug off the “most spiders and snakes aren’t even poisonous” argument. I didn’t pay enough attention in school to be able to tell which spiders and snakes are going to bite me and kill me and which ones are going to bite me and just cause me pain.

Besides, spiders and snakes are notoriously sneaky and they don’t even have to bite you to make your life miserable.

A few years back, I went outside one foggy morning to retrieve my newspapers. I was still half asleep since I hadn’t had my morning coffee, but I was awake enough to realize my life was in danger when the large, brown “leaf” resting on top of my newspaper started crawling.

The man who walks in my neighborhood each morning didn’t see what made me scream, flail at the ground with a giant limb I yanked from the nearest tree and threaten to “kill anything that moved for the next 10 minutes.”

He only saw what I am sure looked like a large threat to society, but thankfully I was able to get the words “giant spider” out before he called the police.

The walker had a good laugh and went on his way. I, on the other hand, went inside and calmed my frazzled nerves by doing a little writing about my thoughts at the time:

The itsy, bitsy spider, climbed up the water spout.

Out came Jack, with poison nice and stout.

Up came the sun, and baked its cold, dead shell.

Now the itsy, bitsy spider can go right back to … well, you know where.

And, he can take the dadgum snakes with him.

Jack Stallard is sports editor of the Longview News-Journal. Email: jstallard@news-journal.com