Clotilda got very upset when her teacher informed her she was a spider. At first, she denied the possibility. “I’m a monarch butterfly like Kayla,” she insisted. She flexed the muscles in her back, trying to flap her wings. But she couldn’t fly away from the horrible truth – she had eight legs.
The teacher, a scorpion herself, had held Clotilda in from recess to speak with her in private. “There’s a reason you’re failing your lessons,” the arachnid said gently. “It’s entirely out of your control. You can’t fly, and you can’t build a cocoon, because you were built to suck the blood of the creatures who do those things. I suggest you transfer to Arachnid 101. My good friend professor Longlegs teaches it.”
“Are you kicking me out of your class?” Tears began forming in Clotilda’s myriad eyes.
“Yes,” the teacher said soothingly, “but it’s not necessarily a bad thing. It would be silly to teach you how to be a popular winged insect when your destined profession is that of the hated web-spinner. It’s time you started learning that trade, before you graduate and we throw you into the real world. We don’t want you to starve, for metamorphosis’ sake!”
Clotilda nodded sadly. She had always had the urge to taste her best friend Kayla’s juicy wings that smelled like oranges. Now she understood why.
The teacher left the classroom to call the students back from recess. When they returned, they were confronted with a startling sight – a silken web had been strewn across the entire room, obscuring the bookshelves in a white sheet and covering the windows in a pattern like a kaleidoscope. The butterflies hesitated at the door.
“Come on in,” Clotilda coaxed. “I’ve made a nice butterfly bed for you guys to lie in.”
Kayla grinned at the idea of nap-time. She flitted into the bewebbed room, and her peers soon followed after her. As soon as they entered the classroom, they became entangled in sticky threads. The more they twisted and struggled, the more stuck they became. In a few moments, they were nothing more than burritos wrapped in knotted thread, waiting to be sucked dry by their classmate.
“This isn’t a butterfly class anymore,” Clotilda said, grinning at her instructor. From the doorway, the scorpion smiled. After all, teachers are fond of students who bring them gifts of food.
Image credits in order of appearance:
“Danaus plexippus in Secret Woods” by Korall – Own work. Licensed under CC BY 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Danaus_plexippus_in_Secret_Woods.JPG#/media/File:Danaus_plexippus_in_Secret_Woods.JPG
“Jumping Spider Eyes” by Opoterser – Own work. Licensed under CC BY 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jumping_Spider_Eyes.jpg#/media/File:Jumping_Spider_Eyes.jpg
“Dewy spider web”. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons – https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dewy_spider_web.jpg#/media/File:Dewy_spider_web.jpg