Based on a true story. Now, to be fair, I’m pretty sure that spider was a black widow. At the very least, it was black and alone.

(Side note: Why do I suddenly feel like some kinda spider racist…)

As Sketched Comedy is my sole occupation at the moment, I don’t really leave the house much. While this has allowed me to maintain my beautiful fish-like pallor with greater ease, I’ve noticed one small side effect. Every so often I go a teeny, tiny bit stir crazy and start drawing on the walls in my own blood. Nothing major, but it does give me a gentle reminder that I should go outside from time to time and remind myself what the sky looks like.

Inevitably, though, this ends in tragedy. Immediately I am reminded of the fact that (a) I live in Texas, so it’s roughly 70,000 degress outside; (2) that we live in the middle of nowhere, and the bugs have decided our yard is a convention center; and (orange) that I’m too lazy/disinterested/afraid/busy playing video games to keep the lawn under any semblance of control, so there’s all this scary Green Stuff full of God Knows What out there. Plus, y’know. Spiders are a thing that exist.

Tell you what, though, Outside. If you can meet me half way, I’d be willing to give you another try. All you have to do is be climate controlled. And cleaner. And bug-free. These are not unreasonable requests, you know. You’re just not trying hard enough.