"What's that guy doing?" a colleague asks.
I look around, up into the heavens where his gaze is angled, but see nothing.
"This guy, right here," and he points to a tiny spider hanging by a thread of silk from the overhang above the rear entrance to the building.
"He's waiting around for the opportune moment to lay eggs in some chick's hair."
He laughs.
"Aren't we all waiting for that. Except those aren't really eggs."
Upon Seeing a Watercolor Portrait of a Large, Naked Man Seated in an Armchair
"Remind me never to go over to that guy's house for a football game."
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