"I saw. I watched. I have eight eyes it was hard not to. "
Spiderdero was full of excuses and not the good kind.
"So what you're telling me is that a man, a well liked, and already sorely missed man, a man with substantial connections to the upper crust of society, was wrapped in a spider web of a cocoon in his kitchen, was likely poisoned and has been half consumed, and if I understand you correctly, you're saying that you had nothing to do with it?"
"Exactly. This is all just a misunderstanding."
"Here's what I think happened, this poor man of great influence, quasi-father, husband, only child, morbidly obeseite, he gets the munchies at some ungodly hour of the night and makes his way to the over abundantly stocked fridge. He's gorging himself on carb heavy processed foods, just chugging back untold empty calories. It's a disgustingly beautiful feeding frenzy. You're a spider, with the economy as it is these days, fly numbers are down. You've got to do what it takes to survive. You say you sat and watched, witness to this brutally savage primal act, it triggers your own instincts. You look on with eight eyes full of lust, inspired to indulge in your own sickening display of gluttony by ending his. Saliva and poison congregate around your fangs dripping globules of pure desire. He doesn't even know you're there, doesn't have a clue, you pucker up your butt cheeks and hit him with all you've got, pounce and bite. And Mr. man, survived only by his wife, a world vision sponsored child, and a gold fish named Jane Fonda, ends up as nothing but spider food."
"Wow, do you want a medal or something? That's possibly the most $#!*house piece of detective work I've ever heard. I'm a spider you retard, why are you talking to me?"
"Well, Mr. Spiderdero if I'm such a spaz how come when I talk, you answer?"