This story begins like any other, two humans, a spider and an interview room. It was summer time, so the relative hum of the air conditioning unit helped ease the silence and awkwardness before a shrieking tsunami of unwelcomed white noise forcefully hits the eardrums of everyone in the room...
Everyone apart from me, that is, because my species aren't inferior enough to only have two effective means of hearing sound waves. As an arachnid, I sense vibrations through my hair and openings all across my body.
Yeah... take that, a spider's sensitivity is finely tuned to vibrations - which is more than can be said for you humans, huh?
I mean, for real, if I had to blast music in a car so loud just to hear the vibrations, then I'd be asking God why.
That's humans for you, though, arrogant, oppressive and utterly oblivious to anyone or anything else.
The interview had officially begun.
I loved my life. I was born in Shoreditch, in Hoxton Square's quaint British park. My mother was Hungarian and moved here hidden in a crate of Hungarian embroidered pillowcases; immigration wasn't so tight then. As a result, I had a simple and modest upbringing. In the mornings, we would weave webs and hunt for food. In the evenings, we would check our traps for the brainless flies with five eyes that still somehow never managed to see our large white sticky webs. It would be wrong of me to complain, though, because Mum's traditional English fly-up came second to none.
The months flew by, and despite Mum being female and scientifically capable of living longer than me, she came home one day with a larval wasp attached to her sac. Unfortunately, this now meant she was host to a parasite, which made her very weak and unable to hunt anymore.
Unlike you humans, however, we Arachnids never give up on family... unless the female was displeased with the male's sexual performance, in which case she eats the male in self-righteous retribution.
Then, just like that... my whole life changed.
It was a beautiful day. Hoxton Square was filled with people and picnics - a welcomed gift as the flies were out in force. I lowered myself down our tree and started weaving my web. Of course, a human girl was sitting at the bottom of the tree on a tuffet the entire time.
Yes, I know, rather odd considering we're in a park, but this girl was determined the foot stall in her bedroom had to accompany her to the park and hey... who am I to judge?
I never bothered her. Whilst the tuffet was unusual, it wasn't the first time I had worked in this proximity of human children.
I was close to completing the web when one of my eyes caught a glimpse of a fat, grotesque human face watching my every move. I greeted her politely, and her reaction was entirely uncalled for!
A high pitched battle axe of pre-pubescent vocal cords came crashing down upon me. I felt the shudders of the recklessly loud "AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" enter every part of my body. I ceased all movement in complete shock.
Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next.
This is hard to talk about.
She stopped screaming and continued gawping at me. I realised now I was dealing with a psychopathic, spoilt brat who could only communicate by screaming despite being the most intelligent species on the planet.
Seriously... this little bitch had a tuffet in a public park. How spoilt can a person get!
My web was complete, and I didn't fancy my chances against this unstable wreck of a child, so I started my accent back to Mum.
I quickly scurried up my complete web when the human child thought it would be amusing to ambush me with a repugnant excuse for a meal.
Curds and whey. Yes, you did hear that right. Little Miss spoiled bitch who can afford to sit on a foot stall in a public park is now eating nasty coagulated milk because the political situation in Britain was abominable before Thatcher.
She commissioned a spoon into a medieval trebuchet and loaded it with the foul smelling curds and whey before launching it directly at me.
She ran away when she saw I was hit - typical human coward!
The extremely hot curds and whey immediately scolded my legs, face and body... the rest was a blur.
I remember waking up on the grass at the bottom of the tree covered in this foul-smelling concoction you human savages call food.
It was burdensome for me to walk. The fall broke two of my legs and fractured three. My vision in my three eyes was utterly blurry. I thought it was the end.
I laid there for two days in agony beyond your imagination.
Once I had enough strength, I reclimbed the tree to inform Mum of my troubles, but it was too late.
She was gone.
I never had enough faith in my penis size to meet a woman. If I wasn't already afraid of being eaten, now the trauma from this had scarred me from ever leaving the tree again.
If these humans had taken my vision, Mum and ability to hunt, it was only fair I received some compensation. I put a claim in for medical insurance, but apparently, the NHS doesn't cover arachnids. I'm now partially blind, crippled and emotionally unstable but what hurts the most is how you humans have treated me.
Only now, do you want to hear my version of events? After Little Miss bitch has already become famous off my misfortune. Generations after generations of children singing the rhyme of little miss Muffet, who was terrified by a spider, but the truth is she was a vindictive aggressor who took pleasure in ruining my life.
The voice recorder was stopped and the interview terminated...
The spider was shuffled onto a leaf and carried back home by carefully by one of the humans conducting the interview.
Merci pour la lecture!