Staring up at the kitchen ceiling from my newly acquired position, I spy a mean looking neon green spider. He looks agitated, speedily creeping out from behind the yellowish plastic ring around the light can. (Were those white when we remodeled just a few years ago?)
I don’t like where this is going. I try to get up, but I can’t move. The back of my head aches from where it smacked down on the terrazzo floor. My green friend’s spidey sense must have been aroused by the electrical pulse that shot from toaster through the fork still clutched in my right hand.
He rappels towards me on a thin stream of webbing. I panic, but I still can’t move. He lands on what is, from my point of view, the apex of my belly. I can feel him through the thin t-shirt material. After jockeying for position, he becomes deathly still. Then I feel it, he’s piercing my stomach! Everything goes black.
I wake dazed. Yellow puss oozes from around the light fixture above me. The fat from my belly is gone. I’ve been lipoed by an arachnid!