Avarice Incarnate

The spider whose web I've been crashing at is getting kind of sick of me. I guess it's about time I strike out on my own, and see what I can make of myself. I stepped onto the sidewalk, and wouldn't you know it, there she was; Adorned by fluffy green earmuffs and gaudily over-sized plush boots, she was a low-fat dessert for the eyes, a paradox for the soul's deciphering probe to jab against. Perhaps she was the very realization of my pewter daydreams molded by tepid steam from makeshift ovaries.