CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
To say I was overwhelmed was an understatement. That spider was family. Now it was smashed on a kitchen counter in a nursing home somewhere.
I wanted to throw up. Tears welled in my eyes. I put my head in my hands and wept.
That was my back door spider. It had warned me of danger so many times.
You’re probably thinking, “Lester, why are you mourning something that was already dead?”
That spider could still think. It could still feel. The first time it died, it died of natural causes. This time, it died the way no arachnid should ever have to.
I wiped away my tears and thanked the spider for everything. It was on the way to the spirit world now, and whatever awaited it in eternity, I hoped it was good. That spider deserved the nicest, darkest corner, the strongest we
