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For a bit of change, here’s a bit of fiction. Enjoy!

On a boxy fly zapper, a spider made his home. Spanning a fourth of the wire screen, his web quivered with daily new acquisitions of hapless insects who met their unfortunate end four inches earlier than they would have if they’d completed their dazed journey into the orange lighted trap.

The spider’s friends had protested that he lived too close to such an alluring danger. But their warnings were usually made while visiting his house and spoken around a mouthful of juicy fly meat much abundant there on the edge. The spider boasted of his immunity to the mesmerizing effects of the coils.

One day, a wasp fell victim to the allure of the seductive light. Before he could experience their electrocuting welcome, he became entangled in the spider’s greedy web. As he thrashed in panic, he awoke from his orange-hued stupor. He saw the spider watching him, serenely waiting for his energy to be expended. The spider was already imagining what a delicious meal the wasp’s fat body would make.

Panting from his effort to escape, the wasp called to the spider.

“What are you doing here, this close to the zapper?” he cried.

“Waiting for you,” returned the spider.

“You’re a fool to live here.”

“That’s what my friends say too. But oh how they’ll wish they were me when they see what a delicious morsel I’ve won!”

The wasp thrashed again.

As the spider smugly waited for the wasp’s exhaustion, a fly – lost to all but the call of the light – flew into the web just a few strands from the wasp. The fly’s dazed struggle combined with the wasp’s weakened the web. One strand gave loose, then another. Before the spider could spin any more, the crippled wasp fell free of the web and spiraled uncontrollably into the light. A loud, electrical jolt announced his end.

The spider looked into the zapper after his prize catch. Disappointment paralyzed him. The small fly, still caught, died unnoticed. Two other flies arrived in the web that night, uneaten. The spider simply sat there, looking after the wasp that got away. He kept imagining what the wasp would’ve tasted like and how his friends would’ve been impressed by its huge, hollow carcass.

Slowly, as the night wore on, he began to imagine that the wasp was still un-fried by the electrical current. He could almost see its plump body dangling just short of the orange coils. Yes. There it was. He could see clearly now. It was dangling by one thread of the web.

“Don’t worry, my prize,” muttered the spider, “I’m coming for you. I’ll pull you out of there.” And then added with a chuckle, “Back to dinner.”

His eyes full of wasp; his mind of the impressed jealousy of his friends; the spider spun his way towards the coils. “Just another little bit,” he grunted as he reached out for where the wasp was dangling.

A loud, electrical jolt announced his end.

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