Oh, what a life! Some say that "it's a dog's life". I say, "Lucky". Do you know how good dogs have it? Huh? They get fed and housed, petted and fondled and walked and played with...They get loved. And if they don't, some hoity-toity human will come along and rescue them.
My point? Dogs get loved.
I, on the other hand, am universally hated. I can't walk into a room without people screaming and running and climbing on furniture - as if that would help if I really wanted to attack them. Not that I want to attack them, you understand. Why would I? Have you ever wanted to attack something thirty-million times bigger than you are? Huh? Have you?
Even when I try not to be noticed, even when I walk into a room on the ceiling and hang out in the corner in hopes of watching the fascinating creatures therein while being unobserved myself, I always seem to draw someone's eye.
Curse it! They've only got two eyes, stuck on the front of their heads! They can't even see our houses, and they're constantly walking through them, completely destroying all our hard work, but yet they spot me when I'm sitting directly above their heads, where I thought nothing but a frog would be able to see me.
Maybe humans are related to frogs.
And they're not content with destroying our homes - and cursing us because of their clumsiness - oh no! Every time they see us, they have to try to do away with us in some new and creative way: Stepping on us from above, shooting us with poison from below, slapping at us with rolled up magazines, (my dad lost a couple of legs and a wife to an issue of Life Magazine - ironic, isn't it?) setting insect traps for us, capturing us in cups and dumping us down the toilet, setting their cats on us...like I said, new and creative ways. Some guy down in Brazil even took potshots at Cousin Leroy, just because he was a foot in diameter.
Poor Cousin Leroy. What a way to go. And while he was on vacation, too.
And you know, the humans never have a good reason for trying to murder us. I don't suppose they've noticed, but when they come for us, we run and hide. We hardly ever attack them back. I've heard some of them say that they hate us, and I've always wondered, why? Why do they hate us? Because we have "too many eyes"? Hey, this is a big world, and we're small creatures. We need lots of eyes to see everything - including, (but not limited to,) psychopathic humans swooping in for the kill.
Some people say that we have "too many legs," and that "it's disturbing". I wonder, have they looked at themselves lately? Humans have four long appendages, (I honestly don't see how they can walk on just two, why aren't they falling over all the time?) so I guess I can see why they'd think eight is too many. BUT, they also have short, stubby appendages on the ends of the long ones, and then, as if that weren't enough, they have fives more appendages on the end of each stubby appendage! All different shapes and sizes, of course. And yet they think our eight legs are "disturbing"?
Some hate us because they think we should not live in their house, though they think nothing of sticking their chests or legs or arms or heads into our houses. Some humans will even go out of their way to destroy our beautiful webs. Is it unreasonable of me to think that we should be entitled to a few inches of their living space if they ruthlessly dismantle ours? I don't think it is. Especially since we're such considerate house guests; we eat all the other bugs that are invading the human's house, forage only when we've rid the dwelling of pests, and try to stay out of sight as much as possible. Unlike the humans - they just walk right in for no reason. You'll be sitting in the middle of your luxury web that you've just spun, thinking about how nice it is when the breeze blows, how blue the sky is, how soon your wife is going to eat you, what color body-dye looks best with your natural stripes, and BAM! there's a screaming, cussing head filling up your living room, without so much as a by-your-leave or how-do-you-do.
(That's another reason why we're so much nicer to have around the place - we try our best to be silent and not disturb the other residents of a human house. It saddens me to say that humans aren't so courteous.)
Ah, me! I guess it will never be any different. We'll lead a life of wandering from one place to another, spinning our homes in beautiful places - and then not so beautiful, as we get increasingly desperate - only to have them torn asunder by very noisy people, braving traps and poison to find something to keep from starving, ridding the world of pests with nary a word of thanks in return, and in general doing our best to survive in this cat-eat-spider world - only to be ruthlessly smashed when we pop out to say hello.