There’s a colony of spiders who live in my car. I know this because, every morning when I drive off to work, there are new webs filigreeing across the windshield. I initially thought these were actually cracks, but fortunately they’re the real thing.
I say fortunately because it is my plan, nay my hope, that in time, if I leave them be, they will come to see me as their arachnid overlord, and thus give their subservience over to me. I can see it now, a vast army of them, mindlessly and willingly doing my bidding, marching over the lands and dispatching of all my enemies. Granted, I don’t have any enemies at the moment, but give me time. Oh, I will rule the world, only to be placated by nubile young women. And cinammon rolls. Can’t forget the cinammon rolls.