The boy who lives in my house was washing down the patio floor with the garden hose, when he inadvertently sprayed Bruiser Stone’s dwelling.

Yeah, that’s Bruiser. He has eight legs, four large, four small. And don’t you go callin’ him Daddy Long Legs. He hates bein’ called Daddy.

I almost heard a ‘”What the f–k!’

Anyway, the spray hit ‘im and his web, shredding a portion of it and sending him flyin’ into the air. Thank the sweet Lord, Bruiser was just renovatin’ his web and had been already hangin’ by his thread.


Bruiser is extremely adaptable. A millisecond after I heard the ‘What the f–k’, I heard a cool, ‘Shit happens, kiss my ass, I’ll rebuild, I’ll give this ta Halliburton, y’hear?’ With that, he just swung in a wide arc and settled back on the undamaged side of his web and proceeded ta fill the gaping holes in the construkshun.

Bruiser Stone resembles an expert Alpiner who has lost his footing on side of the K2 and barely managed to get back on his ledge, shaken, after hanging by his rope and piton for a few harrowing moments and then gathering his wits and moving on.

‘Phew! Buzz off, kid, leave me alone,’ Bruiser said,’ My dinnah is ready’. He waved his front legs at a grass fly that had crashed into the north-east corner of his condo, like a WW1 Sopwith Camel.

‘Toodle-oo’, said Bruiser.

Oh yeah, I know how a spider says toodle-oo……

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