That was NOT a Gecko

Living in Thailand causes one to accept a fact of life - critters will get into your house, whether you like it or not.  Case in point: earlier tonight I just about squished a gecko while turning on the light to the dining room.

Second case in point: a couple of weeks ago we had friends visiting us from Hong Kong, and after putting the kids to bed we were sitting in our front room chatting about this that and the other when our friend said, "Hey, is that a gecko over there?"  He was pointing into the living room.  I got up and went "over there" to check it out.  (UPDATE: check here to see our friend's version of the story.  He tells it with the unvarnished truth, whereas I try and make myself out to be the hero...read on.)

Imagine my surprise to see a spider with a legspan of at least three inches, possibly even four.  Imagine also the sound emitted upon seeing this monstrous arachnid scuttling about my home:

Actually, I'm not sure that was a spider.  I think a spider mated with a king crab and the offspring of that affair is what found its way into our living room.  And I have I ever mentioned that I am terrified of spiders?  Mali usually has spider-killing duty, but as soon as I said, "Oh my gosh, that's a spider!" she jumped up onto the coffee table and screamed.  The jury is still out over who had the more feminine scream, but I'm pretty sure it was mine.

None of the four adults were anxious to take on this spider, because not only was it big, it was frighteningly fast.  Upon my approach it scrambled underneath the end table where it must have known it could not be batted with a rolled up newspaper, flyswatter, or shoe.  I was watching it with a flashlight, hoping and praying that it didn't decide to take the initiative and attack, when what to my wondering eyes should appear but a angel.  An angel in the form of a gecko.

Now you can see that this gecko wasn't much bigger than the spider.  Still, my money was on the gecko.  When the spider decided to make a move, the gecko moved, too, but I think our less-than-subtle response to the movement spooked the gecko.

Alas, it was not meant to be.  Ultimately the gecko, I think, did not appreciate the audience.  I want to believe that had we turned off the flashlight the gecko would have gone on to take care of the eight-legged intruder, but there was no way I was going to take my eyes off that beast.  The spider, not the gecko.

In the end it took two full-grown men to corner the spider and whack the snot out of it with a flyswatter.  It took several swats to finish the job, and even after that Mali had me pick the carcass up with a paper towel and deposit it in the trash outside, just to be absolutely certain.