Er... meep.

[active_apathy]

So, there was recently a Very Big Spider sharing my abode. The Very Big Spider departed some time after that, which I thought would be the end of that particular spider.

Oh, how wrong I was.

Today, there is not one spider. They evolved. They rebelled. There are many spiders. And they have a plan.

Also, they're tiny, tiny little things, mere spiderlings. Did I mention there's many of them?

As it turns out, my flesh-nomming valuables-gathering tenant wasn't so much a huntsman as a huntswoman, and spent some non-zero amount of time, during which I wondered where a giant spider might've scampered off to, on the forming of babby in my home.

So, um. Yes. There is something more disturbing than the notion of a GIANT SPIDER nomming upon one's flesh, and I now know what it is: the notion of being made into some kind of arachnid Gerber for the growing offspring of a GIANT SPIDER.

(Human! With everything a growing GIANT SPIDER needs for strong fangs and eight healthy eyes, it's what's for dinner. Don't just take our word for it - let's hear what Shelob has to say about this exciting new food!)

Comments

[ladyphoenixia.livejournal.com]

We tend to get rid of them by spraying every entrance with Cockroach Bane, aka eucalyptus oil. Keeps most of the beasties out. But eventually, our protection wears thin, and the hordes find their way amongst us once more.

(One scurried across my counter as I was cooking. Not Happy)

And fair enough. Huntschildren - evil in packs. >_