by Sholani Macadaan

Once upon a time in a quaint little forest, there lived a lovely black widow spider that went by the name of Arachne. She lived in a small tree-hollow not too high up from the ground that was just the right size to fit all of her furniture. In one corner was her dresser made from bits of tanbark imported straight from the city, in the other was her bed made from twigs and a few bird feathers for a mattress (she even spun the bed sheets herself), and hanging from the wall was her pride and joy—her eggsack. All of her precious young would be hatching any day now. All five hundred of them. She was very excited.

One pleasant March day, Arachne was altering her web to make it more "attractive" to other bugs by spinning rose patterns onto it. She was very content, singing whichever songs came to mind, her tiny voice warbling sweetly. Occasionally she did get a little frustrated though, because her little black veil often obstructed her view of her web, and she feared her roses would turn out looking like mushrooms! That wouldn't be good. But for tradition's sake, she kept the accessory on.

Suddenly, just as the black widow was about to finish her last rose, she felt large gusts of wind blasted against her out of nowhere. She clutched onto her web for dear life, shutting her eight eyes tight. After about two seconds when the wind had ceased, she opened her eyes again and simply stared at the gigantic crow before her.

"Good Heavens, Wiggums, at least caw before you come flapping at my doorstep! You nearly scared me half to death!" Arachne squeaked.

"Sorry, Arachne." The crow said sheepishly.

The spider practically hopped off of her web to properly greet her friend and in return, the crow patted her ever-so-gently with his wing. She examined him thoroughly, as if to assess what had changed about him since their last meeting. Wiggums' feathers gleamed in the sunlight and he smelled absolutely delightful. He must've gotten his feathers done.

"Your feathers are looking quite spiffy today. Just what is it you do with them? I can never get my thorax to shine with as much luster no matter how hard I try." Arachne asked incredulously, a tad jealous. "And what is that wonderful smell?"

"Well, I've been eating healthier now. Sunflower seeds really help with the sheen, you know. I also rolled around in some lavender earlier to rekindle that flame between Laverna and me after the kids moved out."

"Oh, you cad, you!" Arachne giggled. "But what could I possibly do?" She tapped her head with a front leg thoughtfully.

"Well you could bathe in the blood virgins, I'm sure that works." Wiggums joked.

"Oh, splendid! I'll be sure to try it one day."

There was an awkward silence.

The crow looked around the branch they were on and inside the treehole and found everything to be in place, except one thing—Arachne's boyfriend.

"Hey, Arachne…uh, where's Bartholomew?"

The young spider blushed and averted her eyes embarrassedly.

"You see, Wiggums, he was met with a sort of… accident." She chuckled guiltily.

Wiggums looked again at the spider's dark veil and understood immediately. He slapped his face with his wing.

"You ate him already!"

All traces of shame gone, the black widow just grinned at the memories this discussion must've made her recall.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Wiggums, I really am, but he looked so delicious! You just can't blame me."

He sighed, feeling a little bad for getting frustrated when it was really in her nature to do this. Black widows weren't like crows, who valued their mates and lives together. They were just that; black widows.

"I guess I can't. I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't worry, dear, it's quite alright. I don't expect you to understand my ways." She sighed sadly. "He really was sweet those four days we were together. Do you think I'll find someone else?"

He smiled at her. "Keep your fingers crossed."

She looked down at her legs quizzically.

"But Wiggums… I haven't any fingers!"


((Was that adorable or what? :D))