The Obscure

Your family just got a whole lot famler.

Welcome to the Hotel Baked-Alaska, where our bellboys are paid... Under the Table.
If I suffered from a massive coronary right now, and my eyes popped out of my head, and I then died without so much as making a sound or drinking one last can of Fresca: would the world miss me?
Or rather, would I be missing anything?
Who knows, chums. I'll tell you one thing though, I don't like the idea of my eyes popping out of my head. Not one bit.

920 is the lucky number!

Friends, countrymen, local librarians, I am tired. I think it is about time I took a break from doing nothing, got off my strangely thin ass, and went for a walk. Problem is, summer is over! I can't go out walking in this weather, or in the dark, without a coat and/or one of those hats with flashlights attached to them. My only solution is circumcision. Not in the usual sense, of course. Gentlemen do not speak of such horrid topics. No no, I mean the shearing off of a spider's soul.
See, spiders, unlike most normal creatures, have an actual physical soul, it is one of their many body-parts. If you cut it off, you then own that spider's immortal being for all eternity, until the time comes when you choose to release it.
That's what separates us from the spiders. That's all, though. Other than that we are completely identical.

Welp, I figure it's about time for me to hit the ol' dusty trail. I apologize for the abundance of posts in this 12 hour period. It's just the way I roll.
G'night one and all!