Zemblan Grammar

Whaddup, Big Al?

How’s it hanging? Look, buddy, I just wanted to check in with you. I know we see each other every morning, but there’s something we need to discuss.

It’s about your web.  I know you wanted to build it across my front door at first, but I thought we had resolved that issue.  Remember when I came outside that first morning and tore it down with the broom?  Remember me telling you to move it on across the porch, to the vacant apartment?  His door is just like mine, I said.  It’ll be cool.

Don’t give me that look, Al.  It’s not going to work on me.  I know you remember that conversation, so quit playing dumb.  I am one cold-hearted bitch when I need to be.  Stop pouting.  I mean it.

I know you know what I’m talking about.  Every morning I tear down your web; every night you rebuild it in the exact same spot.  You simply must stop being so stubborn; you must learn to listen to reason.  I don’t like to walk face-first into a web every morning, and I will do whatever it takes to ensure that doesn’t happen.

No, Al, stop talking about my Buddhist phase.  That was a decade ago.  I eat big fat steaks all the time, Al, and don’t think I won’t stoop to spider-killing too.  Think about it.  Have you ever heard anything from your colleagues who were sent to infiltrate my house?  Did their reports ever get back to the central web?  I didn’t think so.

That’s because I squished them, Al.  Yes I did.  I squished their fuzzy little bodies and their nasty, unnecessarily many legs.  The only things I didn’t squish were the heads, and that’s because I saved them so I could put them on tooth-pick sized spikes all around the house.  Yes I did. Oh, yes I did.

Let that be a lesson to you.

So, what was that you were saying about moving the web next door?  That sounds like a great idea, little buddy.

Bon Voyage,

V