Charlotte’s Dutch Colonial

‘So,’ said the real estate agent, ‘what do you think?’

‘I was looking for something stickier,’ said the spider.

‘Stickier?’

‘All these houses you’ve shown me, they’re not very sticky.’

‘Most clients appreciate how not sticky our homes are.’

‘Well for me it’s really quite important that my home be sticky.’

‘Have you seen the exposed beams on this one? It would be like living in a period drama.’

‘Do you think it’s likely that visitors will get stuck to the exposed beams?’

‘I don’t believe in absolutes, but so far nobody ever has.’

‘There you go then. It’s just I’m not a very good cook, and I’m a bit of a home body, so I really need a place that visitors will get stuck to long enough for me to suck out their nutrients. Ideally in an area with a lot of Jehovah’s Witnesses or door to door salesmen.’

The real estate agent considered the spider for a long moment. ‘Wait here while I speak to my manager.’

The spider waited patiently. She was good at waiting patiently.

Some time later the quiet afternoon exploded into sirens and flashing lights. Police cars flooded the street outside, and as the spider watched through the window, policemen streamed out of the cars and into the building.

Finally the real estate agent returned.

‘Sorry about the wait,’ he said.

‘What are all those policemen doing here?’ said the spider.

‘Oh, they’re not policemen, they’re just very elaborate strippers. There’s a birthday party going on in one of the cubicles. Anyway, if you’ll look at these pictures I believe I’ve found you the perfect place.’

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