The King of Pointland

My Little Friends, Jim and Borris

Speaking of The New Yorker and animals (cf. comments in previous entry), a friend would like to visit my bathroom once a week to read the latest issue of said magazine. Loafer!

This is what I told her:

Dear Friend,

You're welcome to, but watch out: there are little animals in
my bathroom, too!  Seriously, I woke up at 4 AM this morning to 
make P.P. (that's short for pee pee), and there waiting for me were 
two visitors.  First, I saw the cricket, and thought, "Hello, little
friend.  You will jump on me, so I better sma-- oh, what's this?"
Looking down on the floor I espied a *huge* velvety spider!  I swear,
it looked like it was covered in dark purple velvet.

I put a clear glass flower bowl over him (her?), and I remember
saying to the spider, "I'm sorry, but I have to do this, because . . .
well, I think it's self-evident."

It's stil there. I'm going to set it free.  Wish me luck.

Yours,
David

As of this writing, I have not yet released the spider. I am worried it will jump on me and bite me in the eye. I need a long stick.