Ok, if you have a weak stomach or have just eaten a McDonald’s chicken sandwich…may wanna stop reading here…
A while ago a spider passed away on my ceiling. I already know that you’re thinking, “Uh, how long is ‘a while ago’?!” In my defense Spidey Locks (that’s what I named her) wasn’t above my bed, so the chances of her falling into my mouth in the middle of the night were slim. For her to fall into my mouth would be the equivalent of solving the “magic bullet” mystery from the Kennedy assassination. Plus, can we agree that it’s amazing that spiders die and yet still defy gravity? Is that not the ultimate snub to all of us sheep that are subject to the phrase “upside down?”
Anyway, this morning I had chocolate for breakfast, so was feeling extra motivated. I finally got a tissue and stood on a chair to remove the deceased spider, and found that her little body was already decomposing!!! Omg, what if it was it an inside job! What if my ceiling is the symbolic Spider Woods where Jimmy 8 Legs and Eddy Exoskeleton had gone to dump her body, and now she’s too far decayed for the Spider Forensics Unit to conduct a proper autopsy! Are my fingers too fat to hold a spider-size pen to fill out a spider-sized police report?! CAN POLICE SPIDERS DRAMATICALLY TAKE OFF SUNGLASSES?!?!?
Here’s why I feel bad….I feel like if spiders have a religion, the most honorable way to die is on the web (like most of my jokes, zing!). You’ve spun your web, you’re nobly getting food, therefore that is where you should die. This spider died crossing my ceiling. She only made it 75% of the way as well (or 25%…depending on how you look at it). Spidey Locks died mid-task, alone, and on my ceiling which, I’ll be honest, means her last thoughts were probably, “She sure spends a lot of time checking for zits…”
R.I.P., Spidey Locks. Thank you for not falling into my mouth as I slept.