Come In Said the Spider To the Fly

What kind of prissy, prancy, fanciness is afoot? I look down, afraid my wizened mouth might reveal something I truly have nothing to divulge, but I act mysteriously coy. She looks like a Cheshire Cat, someone whispers within my hearing. None of them know that I have dog-ears; only my friends know. Who? I hear my name. Two or three co-workers who rarely speak to me Come into my office, under weirdly suspicious pretenses, acting like buddies, four minutes apart. I gloat in my spider’s chair, thinking of how I would devour them if I was a praying mantis, wishing I was actually. “What is new?” one asks me. I pretend indifference. “You tell me,” I say. I have never had this much attention. I guess I should have my buddy, the police officer, stop by daily, and shut my door. She seems to have stirred great interest. Maybe they think I am more than a pirate, a criminal? I put on my poker face for another round, loving my web today.