To the spiders hanging out in my bathtub:


I’m serious. Quit. It.

I don’t want to kill you, and I want to drown you even less, since the last spider I tried to drown was super water resistant and just would not die. I’m sorry it’s windy outside, but this is my bathtub, and I need to take a shower, and you need to go and not lay a sac of eggs like Black Sally did.

This is Black Sally:

black sally

disgusting little thing, innit?

She was Jen’s pet black widow, housed in a clean spaghetti jar, enclosed with a piece of saran warp (with air holes), kept in the name of curiosity, and at the risk of all of our lives (roommates).

Then, one day, her egg sac appeared in the jar (Black Sally’s, not Jen’s) and at the encouragement of Eugene (“you guys are sooooooo FUCKED!”), she was wisely disposed of (Black Sally, not Jen).

All I can think of is spiders now, and I’m itchy all over.

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