Cyril shifted his grip on the oar from right-hand two and four to left-hand one and three. The credit card on which he was floating rocked precariously but he spread his weight and squatted low, waiting for the wave to pass and the current to catch him again. As he floated down the canal of excrement, urine, and grey water, he reflected on his life and his world under the floorboards.

He had been lucky enough to find a house so receptive to spiders one chill January day. The thatch had been welcoming, with an abundance of places to hide, and the choice of eight legged females more than adequate. He had worked out the routes from the plug hole in the sink to the overflow pipe in the ancient toilet and through the multiple cavities and priest holes in the ramshackle farmhouse. And he had made this world his home.

But today he would have to leave. It had become clear that his mating sessions with Sophie had reached a point of tedium for her, if not for him. He knew how it had to end… It was the arachnid way. They would mate one last time and she would devour him. Well, he had other plans. The makeshift raft calmed and he resumed his rowing, pushing aside sesame seeds and rice which had dislodged from a huge turd floating by his left. His landlords must have had sushi for tea last night, it always went straight through Rebecca.

As the MasterCard slipped towards the final stretch of the outpipe, he saw the web, but too late! The current had him and as he frantically backpaddled, oar and legs flailing, he knew the battle was already lost. The raft hit the web, and Cyril felt the structure give a little, then bounce to a stop. He felt Sophie’s legs close around his body and her fangs enter his midsection. The soft wooziness of her poisons overcame him as she lifted him clear of another sesame speckled shit.

Cyril awoke in the cavity he and Sophie had called home these last few months. The high from the carefully administered toxins softened the edges of his consciousness, but he could make out the silhouette of his mate hovering nervously over him.

‘Cyril? Cyril! Are you ok? I’m so sorry I didn’t want you to struggle and fall in!’

Nice. Thought Cyril. She didn’t want her dinner covered in the predigested remains of Rebecca’s.

‘Where were you going?? I had a special

dinner planned for tonight’

Cyril tried to reply, but all that came out was a gentle moan. Why must she toy with him? Maybe I’ll reincarnate as a bat and repay the compliment, he thought.

‘Look, I know you don’t want babies, and I don’t want to eat you, I love you! So I had a great idea!’

With a flourish, Sophie whipped the acorn shell off the penny in front of Cyril. He looked in horror at the soft white fluffy mound.

‘Happy Valentines my love!’