Sorry, Charlotte.

It was a matter of territory.

“Hm. Let’s try ‘This Pig Is Totes Adorbs So Don’t Kill Him Plz.’”

Dear spider in the park (and your manymany cousins I’ve squooshed in the past),

I’m really sorry for flicking you off.

You’re probably dead.

It’s not that I don’t love what you do. Living with unwanted, six-legged guests, I’ve come to appreciate every single bug that goes your way. One less dude after my bananas.

(And no, that’s not a euphemism.)

I said a quick prayer when I killed you. Something like, “I’m really sorry Spider, but it’s a matter of territory — this is my space and you’d feel the same if I was in yours.”

I hope it counts. It was genuine. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to face the person who told me that Spiders Are Freaking Important And You Should Respect Them, Seriously, Because You Never Know When Spider-Woman Will Show Up.

(The original, by the way. Undistributed by comic book stores.)

I’ll be better next time. I’ll dust you gently to the ground and we can both go on our merry ways.

Sorry, fella.

Peace.