Congratulations on Baking Some Delicious Cookies!

You know you love to bake, we know you love to bake, and everyone loves fresh baked cookies. Yours, of course, are the best.

But what’s your secret? White chocolate chips? A few drops of a child’s blood? Wizardy magicks?

Wrong on all counts, nerds! It’s spiders. You fill cookies with spiders. And even though everyone who eats them gets kind of sick they all agree after the vomiting stops that your cookies are quite tasty. Then they ask you how you get that curious “bite” in there and you can never stop laughing, which is a little bit awkward but your cookies are good enough that it never keeps people from eating them again.

Which just goes to show, you can get away with almost anything if your cookies taste good enough.

Congratulations on Baking Some Delicious Cookies!

Congratulations on Getting Engaged!

You’ve been in love with this girl for a long time, conservative sexual morays aside, and you’ve wanted to do stuff to her. But there’s a catch! There’s always a catch, haven’t you noticed?

She won’t let you put a ring in it (your penis is ring shaped, kinda, it’s weird) unless you put a ring on it. And ring in this context means a wedding ring, not one of them cervix-aligned birth control devices. But today you’re going to get down on one knee, next to the Coney Island Freakshow (her favorite attraction!) and hold the ring up for her approval.

“Yes!” she’ll shout so loud that it hurts your ears. “Oh god yes!”

It’ll come out, as you walk home, that she’s wanted to get laid for a while and she’s been willing to compromise on that front to make it happen, so she’s now willing to sleep with you before marriage, as long as you’re engaged when you do the deed. To this end she’ll lead you back to your Bay Ridge apartment, push your head down to her crotch and coo encouragingly.

You’ll push her panties gently to the side and then scream in horror as spiders just pour out of it.

“AHHH!” you’ll shout. “FUCKING SPIDERS!”

She’ll giggle as you swat them off yourself and then rise up and moan when you run to the bathroom to leap into the shower in an effort to avoid being eaten alive by spiders.

“Was it good for you too?” she’ll ask as the spiders crawl all over her skin, moaning gently each time they bite her. You’ll stay in the shower for a good half hour, weighing the pros and cons of going through with the wedding.

Congratulations on Getting Engaged!

Congratulations on Getting a New House!

You’ve been living a version of the dream for a few years now, but it’s been, at best, a diluted form of it. Sure, you have a wife, two and a half kids (that is to say, two boys and one girl) and a wonderful job where you sell insurance for couches to the couches themselves, effectively tripling your sales because, as it turns out, one in every three people doesn’t really give a shit about their couch. But you’ve been renting this whole time, and fuck that shit!

Three months ago, you put in an offer on a house. A month later, it was accepted. And today, glorious day, you’re going to move in.

You inspected the place very carefully before you made an offer. You’re not an idiot, and you knew the risks. Mold, ghosts, goblins that want to turn your family into plants so they can eat them. You also looked into the schools, the crime, the neighbors. You had your friend, a retired cop with zero morals, go to the home of the neighborhood’s only registered sex offender and murder him with a piece of rebar. You thought you covered all your bases.

And you hired professional movers to handle the whole job, a good call because you’re really ill-suited to manual labor. The whole thing will go swimmingly. You won’t have cable set up yet, but you’ll have gas, power, all the important stuff in place on the day you move in and your furniture will be flawlessly arranged by the obedient, tired looking Mexican dudes who work for the moving company. It’ll seem perfect.

Until about an hour and a half after sunset.

Once the sun goes down, the noises will begin. Gentle skittering sounds within the walls, indicative perhaps of mice or rats. You’ll press your ear to the wall and they’ll stop, only for a moment, before they increase in intensity.

You’ll learn the cause of the skittering an hour later when a spider, a surprisingly large spider, crawls out of your kitchen sink’s drain, looks at you, then crawls back in.

You’ll be a little freaked out at this point. Smash cut to-

Your doors covered by webs, your family cocooned as spiders crawl all over their bodies, biting them again and again and again. You’ll be in the process of being cocooned yourself as the police bang futilely on the door and you speak to your real estate agent on the phone. She’ll calmly explain that:

“Legally we don’t have to disclose any information that isn’t explicitly asked for during the showing and, frankly, I think it was pretty irresponsible of you not to inquire as to whether or not there was a swarm of hell-spiders occupying that particular residence.”

You’ll want to scream at the agent, but when you open your mouth to attempt to it will be filled with web and you begin to feel the effects of the spider’s venom as they bite you, a hundred dozen tiny clicks into your skin that spread numbness and pain out from them, and breed in you a kind of sleepy sensation that still cannot soothe the rage you feel towards the real estate agent.

Congratulations on Getting a New House!