I made the mistake of building a garage in the basement of my Arkansas house, so every time I open the door vermin from across the county decide to visit us. If my wife only know how many tarantulas and scorpions I've discretely swept out the door when she wasn't looking, she'd move out.
A few years back I opened the cabinet to get coffee cups during Sunday breakfast and there was a Texas Brown (tarantula) the size of a small Buick sitting right next to our coffee mugs. Wife was just a few feet away, but looking out the window, so I discreetly turned a mug upside down over it, grabbed two other cups, and poured our coffee, planning to scoop it up and throw it out the door later when she wasn't watching. Well, I forgot all about it, and Monday morning, around 4:30 AM (when wife gets up to leave for work) I heard this blood curdling scream from the kitchen, followed by the sound of breaking cups and plates. Although coming out of a deep sleep, I know immediately what it was. I forgot to get rid of fuzzy, and luck would have it that was the cup she grabbed that morning, half asleep.
It made for an exciting morning, but for some reason she didn't quite see it as ammusing.
Natch