Near the floor, in a quiet, rain-free corner of the upstairs bathroom, Itsy Bitsy Spider (a.k.a Eensy Weensy Spider) ekes out a living. She pays the rent in husks of household pests; especially with those blood-thirsty, winged children of the night —which drive you insane with their howlingly loud demands for warm blood— those teensy-weensy vampires that make you itch. And twitch. And scratch, scratch, scratch!
My eight-legged roommate doesn't settle for pint-size morsels when a big, delicious creepy-crawly will do. She's an avid big game hunter —a silent opportunist who knows how to capitalize on a hapless, dumb schmuck, like the six-legged guy pictured above and below.
After biting this wayward crawler on his large right-leg, Itsy Bitsy Spider quickly entangled the leg in the tiniest of gossamer cuffs. She then retreated to her baseboard lair and waited for the poison to do its trick.
Every couple of minutes Itsy Bitsy Spider traveled back down a near-invisible tightrope, which was connected to the victim's leg, to make an inspection. At times Itsy Bitsy Spider appeared to be feeding on the leg, but perhaps the recipe called for more poison. She'd also check his silky cuffs, add a few more, then crawl back up to her home.
Eventually, her dinner was no longer dazed, confused and stumbling about: it was dead, or, at the very least, severely paralyzed. And, later that night, Itsy Bitsy Spider came down the spout to suck him dry.
Tomorrow I collect November's rent.
Notes: 100mm Macro lens used with flash. Each image is approximately three times actual size.