Friday, August 28, 2009
God and the Spider's Web
“This should be interesting,” I thought dispassionately. “That spider should have never tried to hide in my shoe and now he’ll find out what happens when you go where you are not supposed to go—and my hands will be clean, because I did not kill him.”
As the spider frantically tried to free himself, the vibrating web alerted the Daddy long legs that fresh meat had arrived. The Daddy long legs, bigger but leaner than his prey, climbed on to the web and poked at the captive spider, who lashed back violently with all of the strength that he could muster.
Meanwhile, I watched without interfering, musing that the two spiders were likely not even aware of my presence or the fact that on a whim I could kill either or both of them.
After the captive spider’s violent thrashings slowed down, the Daddy long legs came closer to him—but the spider again lashed out furiously when the Daddy long legs poked the spider.
Then the Daddy long legs pounced on the spider and the two creatures wrestled with unbridled passion, their bodies becoming so intertwined that it was not clear if they were trying to kill each other or if they were making love to each other; in either case, it was impossible to tell who was on top.
Their gyrations slowed a bit and the two bodies moved in unison. At first it seemed as though the larger Daddy long legs had engulfed the spider and was about to eat him but in fact the spider was carrying the dazed Daddy long legs. The spider then flipped the Daddy long legs over, delivered a savage death blow, tore down the web and sprinted to safety, dragging the now lifeless Daddy long legs on the ground.
The Daddy long legs died suddenly and brutally, a victim of the winds of fate that cast the spider into the web after I casually dumped the trespasser out of my shoe.
I put on my shoes, turned off the light and left the room.
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