Sue S. Side Almost Won Out As The Tomb Poem...

(alternately titled: a page taken from the play

book of Little Miss Muffet.)

"Oh...My...Argh..." "Somebody...

Please...ease...help...me...ee"..., and

then dead silence, this comprises,

the sole thread bare strand

i.e. plaintive desperate plea – recorded

by emergency 911 agent Brand

N. Burg-Harris, a close family member

of the deceased, who

(said relation) hand

dully appeared aghast, shell shocked,

white as a ghost,

et cetera damned

near roundly dismissed,

but extraordinarily grand

lee escorted to safety,

as some VIP, who

under a "normal," regular,

and/or typical case, would be

gingerly brushed aside land

ding in the loony bin, what with his

babbling like a lunatic understand

ably very little attention paid,

but the sheer immensity,

sans horror surpassed any

concoction hatched, analogous

to grotesque japaned

artwork by necessity didst demand,

an extremely over

active imagination, thus

no "FAKE" spiderbiter words

exist to expand

to embellish, fabricate,

and/or surpass,

a terrifying, nightmarish,

and hideous circumstance

in summary visa a vis dis

covering Goliath manned

doubles (mandibles - jaws of steel),

wherein barenaked remnants

of Matthew Scott Harris protruded,

which humongous mouthparts

of gigantic sized

Tarantula pierced poison

into dangling, flickr

ring, and twitching

scant visible remains

of renowned Arachnologist, academician

passionate serious

die hard "Spider Man."