nightmares as often as this alien creature that looks like something concocted by a Hollywood

horror film.

My first encounter with this nefarious creature was at the tender age of nine. I'd jumped out of

bed and grabbed the pants I'd dumped on the floor the night before. As I started to slip my legs into them, I noticed a big pinkish blob of something stuck on the cuff. Bubble gum? I looked closer. That's when it reared its ugly head and clacked its jaws. I screamed. It waved its arms at me and hissed. I screamed louder. Before my mother could get into the room to see what kind of homicidal mayhem was happening, it jumped off and disappeared into a crack. Never to be seen again. Nobody believed my tale of terror. I convinced myself that it was a figment of my imagination.

A few years later, I sat up late one sultry summer night, reading my book in bed. The cat

was sitting on the edge of the bed watching something. I peered over the edge of the bed and

was horrified to see the creature of my nightmares stalking me across the floor. Just then the cat jumped off the bed and touched a tentative paw to the monster. In slow motion, the critter

attached itself to the cat's paw and clung there. Surprised, the cat flipped her foot. The creature soared into the air and landed somewhere -- I knew not where. The rest of the night was spent tearing all the bedding off the bed and inspecting every inch of the room. I never did find it. Needless to say, I spent a restless summer until I could convince myself that perhaps I'd dreamed the entire scene.

Fast forward forty years. Now I live in Show Low, Arizona. One summer night, I go to turn off

the lights before retiring. That's when I see it. Six inches long, a swollen black abdomen,

bulbous alien head and jaws like a shark. Crawling across the carpet. I grab the flyswatter,

intending to tap it lightly to disable it long enough so that I can swoosh it out the door. I tap it

and it explodes like a paint ball. There it sat in a pool of inky black viscous fluid. It turned and

began to drag its disfigured body toward me, waving its arms and snapping its jaws. I think I

heard it gurgle ominous threats. I lost all restraint and beat it to unidentifiable smithereens.

Then spent a nightmarish hour scrubbing its inky black, bloody remains out of the carpet.

What is this hideous creature? I turn to the World Wide Web to once and for all identify this

haunting critter. Here's what I found out:

It is an Arizona Sun Spider, aka wind scorpion or camel spider. In actuality, it is neither a spider

nor a scorpion but a type of arachnid scientists have named solpugid. Sounds appropriately vile. There are more than 900 species of sun spiders, fifty of which live in the American southwest. Despite their intimidating pincers, scientist do not believe them to be poisonous. "Believe" is kind of a key word here. Don't they "know" this for a fact? They can run very fast though. A skill that comes in handy when chasing down their favorite prey: insects, scorpions, spiders and the occasional gecko. I wonder if human fingers and toes might be included under certain conditions?

They live in burrows, are nocturnal and will aggressively brandish their pincers and bite when

challenged. And don't forget, they can run very fast.

Now, don't you feel better? If you find one of these beneficial critters in your home some sultry summer evening, kindly transport it outside where it can eat the bad buggies.

As for me, I'm running. Hopefully, faster than a solpugid.