Scissors

I posted a story a while back called "Spiderfish, spiderfish." This is the follow-up. It was indeed pants-wettingly hilarious when my roomie came shrieking into the room because of all the spiders in her car. She had to fumigate the thing thoroughly, and the chemicals have left a nice smell lingering in her seats. I kept my eyes peeled for her revenge in the days... Read More » afterward, and sure enough, a little bit later a plate of delicious-looking fudge brownies appeared on the counter. Now, she knows I like chocolate, and I know she doesn't usually make treats like this, so I scouted around for the catch. Sure enough, there were empty boxes of laxative pills hidden in her wastebasket. Really? That is one of the most unoriginal tricks in the book, and I'm insulted that she thinks she could put one over on me so easily. As you may expect, I have a plan. I've been taking a brownie or two from the plate every day, not to eat, but to stash in an airtight container hidden in my closet. These will be used on some other poor bastard later. I've pretended to have the trots to give her her jollies, and have been making up something special in Bio lab. She's kind of dirty and lazy and rarely washes her clothes, so the build-up of dead skin cells should provide a nice environment for the slime molds I've been applying to random items of clothing in her closet. With a couple light spritzes of sugar water every now and then, it should start to grow very soon. I can't wait until you finally open that closet to something that looks like a shot from a David Cronenberg flick.