I just toasted a roll for my lunch. It was a bit too big for the toaster, so I knew to keep an eye on it, and sure enough, some crumbs seemed to be getting a little too toasty for my olfactory glands, so I set the roll aside and brought the toaster to the sink to shake out whatever had gotten caught.
This effort produced a ton of crumbs of all shapes and sizes, at least a couple very well-done cinnamony raisins, some trace quantities of the bottom of a bialy,....
and a live spider. Running all about the bottom of the sink and looking quite pleased that he had escaped a slow death by incineration.
Needless to say, the song followed rather quickly:
Spider Man, Spider Man,
Fries like only a spider can,
Is he smart? No, he's dumb,
He's a radioactive crumb
Don't touch! We're cooking the Spider Man!
::bwah bwah bwah::
For his brains, we won't boast
Just escaping becoming toast
That croissant you just ate?
Take a look on your plate!
Oh ewwwww, there goes the Spider Man!
In the Cuisinart, he's alive and aflame
Will the Health Department catch on to his game?
Spider Man, Spider Man
Your friendly charco-broiled Spider Man
Charlotte's Web can't contain
Her fellow arachnid without a brain.
For him, the process of evolution
Ends with electrocution
And you ate the Spider Mannnnnnnnn!
And remember: with great AC power comes great responsibility.
If you need the theme music for this, and you have been warned about its earworminess, here.
ETA. Half an hour later, the bugger was still in the sink. Emily offered to feed him to the cat- "He's protein!"- but I spared the little guy, at least for now, putting him in a little cage greenhouse Eleanor keeps in the corner of our dining room. This act of bonding required a name, so now, naturally, he has one:
Peter, of course. Peter Sparker.
This effort produced a ton of crumbs of all shapes and sizes, at least a couple very well-done cinnamony raisins, some trace quantities of the bottom of a bialy,....
and a live spider. Running all about the bottom of the sink and looking quite pleased that he had escaped a slow death by incineration.
Needless to say, the song followed rather quickly:
Spider Man, Spider Man,
Fries like only a spider can,
Is he smart? No, he's dumb,
He's a radioactive crumb
Don't touch! We're cooking the Spider Man!
::bwah bwah bwah::
For his brains, we won't boast
Just escaping becoming toast
That croissant you just ate?
Take a look on your plate!
Oh ewwwww, there goes the Spider Man!
In the Cuisinart, he's alive and aflame
Will the Health Department catch on to his game?
Spider Man, Spider Man
Your friendly charco-broiled Spider Man
Charlotte's Web can't contain
Her fellow arachnid without a brain.
For him, the process of evolution
Ends with electrocution
And you ate the Spider Mannnnnnnnn!
And remember: with great AC power comes great responsibility.
If you need the theme music for this, and you have been warned about its earworminess, here.
ETA. Half an hour later, the bugger was still in the sink. Emily offered to feed him to the cat- "He's protein!"- but I spared the little guy, at least for now, putting him in a little cage greenhouse Eleanor keeps in the corner of our dining room. This act of bonding required a name, so now, naturally, he has one:
Peter, of course. Peter Sparker.
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 06:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 06:18 pm (UTC)We can't take you anywhere, can we?
no subject
Date: 2008-12-21 09:41 pm (UTC)And really...that pun...illegal in all 50 states.