I’m going to dismember your spinnerets. No more of your orb web clogging my exoskeleton. I’ll knock that dragline off its hinge and when it falls to the ground we will hear the silk grunt, the murmur of your venom dishonored in the dustpan. I’ve earned the disposition of the brown recluse. My poison’s porous, silent. Hear it swish down your throat as you take your last breath.
