Phrozen and the spider

SO I'M ON MY BED JUST CHILLIN BALLS WHEN THIS SPIDER HAS THE FUCKING NERVE TO RAPPELL DOWN HIS SHITTY WEB ONTO THE DESK BESIDE ME.

AT THIS POINT I'M LIKE HOLY SHIT A SPIDER DON'T FUCKING KILL ME SO I GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY BED AND ASK PEOPLE ON MSN WHAT TO DO WHEN THIS GENIUS IDEA COMES TO MIND.

CHEMICAL FUCKING WARFARE.

The plan is simple but requires finesse; the spider is under the lip of the top of my desk, just hanging there after I blew on it a few times, standing perfectly still in broad daylight pretending I can't see him; the can of Axe is directly under him.

I make my move. Swooping down I grab the can and get my arm the fuck out before he's able to sink his extremely venemous Brown House Spider fangs into my dainty human skin.

All that's left is to take the shot.

I look the fucker right in his 8 or more eyes and pray to spider heaven he's been a good man, then I blast my payload all over his fucking face.

He begins to fall but catches himself; tough bastard. He grabs onto the desk and barely manages to break his fall into the floor, but it was too late; his body had already absorbed too much damage, and as he limped away under the desk, disoriented, I delivered the final volley of chemical unto his rear, rocketting him into the backboard of the desk.

Confused, weary, and wounded, the spider took his last breath, said a quick prayer, and laid down his eight vile arms for the rest of eternity.

The battle may have been won, but the war is far from over; I know his comrades line the back of the bathroom mirror, waiting for their chance to strike; their scout was able to get a bit of intel, but of the weapons I'm using, he wasn't able to report.

I'll keep you guys posted, but if I don't come back in a while, just assume the spiders have won.

God speed.

-Phrozen