Twas a month or so past I treked up to Tikal. There I took hold a terrible tarantula, whom mistook my arm for a toilet. Probably trying to be polite but it was perturbing. Perhaps my skin was appealing and so pooping on my arm was pleasing. I ponder not.
Maybe the Mayan monthly calendar was marked for a might of exscramient on my clean arm. Maybe December 20th 2010 marked the mutual end of my relationship with spiders. Possibly pesky spiders pretend to be pets, patiently pining their time to poop on the unsuspecting passer by.
Terrible tarantula try not to use the arm of another poor person. Maybe make a mess on the grass. Perhaps you probably thought you were only going to pass gas. To trust a toot is a thing I hope you try not again. Promptly I plopped the primevil eight legged plodder on the ground close to the pyramid before the tarantula tried ploting to poop again.