Spiders weave their web of warning


By the way some people’s joints work, they are experiencing a major change in the weather up to 30 times a day.

Well, I may not have any joints equipped with Doppler Radar, but I can tell you that summer must be getting close. I know this for a fact: I just ran into a nocturnal spider web.

I can always tell when summer is coming because the spiders, who apparently feel it is their sacred obligation to notify me of the changing season, string strands of their webs right across the path on which I am walking.

And these aren’t just any spider webs. These season-change-warning spider webs are so technologically advanced that they make the KAKE Land Weather Plex look about as state-of-the-art as a roll of toilet paper.

And I’m talking about the one-ply kind.

I know this because I can hear the webs snap when I walk through. At least, that is, when I’m able to walk through. Sometimes I just bounce back—Warner Bros. cartoon-style.

I’m not really sure how it works, but those spiders somehow manage to produce threads with the same durability of the Flex Ultra Force trash bags. All I know is that if I was passing something of that rigidity from my rear, I would start taking some very potent laxatives.

And quickly.

If the spiders laid out these notifications during the day it wouldn’t be so bad. I can imagine these webs have about the same visibility as suspension-bridge cable. But the spiders only build them at night, when my eyesight is highly impaired.

I can’t see at night for two reasons. First of all, it is dark. That should be a given.

However, on top of the fact that it gets dark outside at night, I think my opthamologist (not to be confused with an optimologist, which is a very “half-glass-full” kind of doctor) prescribed contacts that have some sort of tiny, microscopic stopwatch installed, so that when it reaches a certain time of night the contacts begin to somehow vaporize every drop of liquid from my eyeballs. With the lack of fluids, the contacts begin to shrivel, which causes my vision to go from about 20/20 to something in the range of the later version of the biblical Sampson.

You may think I’m exaggerating, but the high feeling of relief I have just for making it home without crashing my car is so high that sometimes I get out of my car literally singing, “Are the stars out tonight? I don’t know if it’s cloudy or bright. ’Cause I—AUGHH!”

I abruptly stop singing when I catch a Grade A Industrial Quality Climate Forecasting Steel Spider Web to the Adam’s apple.

Earlier tonight I experienced this for the first time this year. I was feeling pretty good about life—my contacts were actually fairly well hydrated—when I ran smack-dab into the new Ultra Invisible fabrication of the spider web.

“Dadgummit,” I croaked, because my Adam’s apple was now lodged somewhere up in my nasal cavity. “I hate it when they upgrade.”

Somewhere in the distance I could hear the squeaky laughter of spiders, watching from their hiding place, waiting for me to come home so I would get their message about the changing seasons.

Now I feel it is my obligation to relay the message to you that summer is getting closer, in case you hadn’t figured it out for yourself.

Come to think about it, my knee has been acting up again.

* * *

UFO: If you drop a penny off of the Empire State Building, it will be going 106 mph (terminal velocity) when it reaches the ground. Something moving this fast may actually cause head injuries if it lands on you.

Don’t ask why.


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