I would like to believe that my home is a warm and inviting place, but I would prefer to believe that has nothing to do with my resident population of spiders. Really. Big. Spiders.
To be fair, there’s only been one so big I remember it in capital letters, but I digress- the Really Big Spider was just the big slow goon in the mafia of creepy, crafty, smaller spiders who are trying to muscle their way on to my turf. And they bite.
I would like to believe that the four spider bites on my arm are in no way connected to contact with actual live spiders, because I don’t know if I could handle the realization that there were at least four spiders on my arm last night, or maybe one spider with impulse problems and four lapses of self control located between my wrist and my elbow- I don’t know. I don’t want to know. What I do want to know is- when do I get my super powers? I think I may have missed out on something here, because Spiderman only had to get bitten once, and I’m guessing that his one lil radioactive nibble didn’t itch half as much as the four non-nuclear bright red dots on my arm.
If I’m going to have spiders crawling on me, I might as well have super powers.
I’m not sure what Peter Parker had been up to when he was bitten, so I’m not sure what sort of radiation I should be trying to bask in. However, I do know that all it takes is some sort of energy field.
If the spiders need me, I’ll be in the microwave.