Gaze upon my Photoshop powers, ye mortals, and despair!!Tarrantula has been scuttling around my dreams for some time.
In front of a live studio audience, he offers me cheques of increasing value in exchange for my firstborn child.
"I dunno, Chris. £500 doesn't seem like much for my son and heir to my empire..."
"Do you want to phone a friend?"
"No, I don't think so. There's no-one on my list who'd be able to answer this one..."
"A thousand?"
"Nah. I've come a long way, had a lovely day, but I think I'll keep my son, thanks very much."
"Is that your final answer..?"
As shiny, viscous liquid rolls down Tarrantula's fangs, collecting in swelling beads at the tips I'm not sure if it's poison or saliva...
I don't really dream about Tarrantula. But I do enjoy a bad pun.
I have hopes that Chris Tarrantula will live on in CD covers and, maybe, the dreams of others.
Who knows? Perhaps if we all believe in him hard enough, he'll be summoned into existence like the thingy is Stephen King's It. I'd be more inclined to watch Who Wants To Be A Millionaire were it hosted by Tarrantula. It'd spice up proceedings considerably, I suspect...
2 comments:
Y'know, a few tired old quiz formats could be pepped up considerably by having a giant, talking, man-eating arachnid as host. Thus, 'Ask the Family' becomes 'Eat the Family', 'Mastermind' becomes 'Masticate' and, instead of 'Who Wants to be a Millionaire?', the British public is asked 'Who wants To Be Paralysed by a Bite from Poisoned Fangs, Bound Inextricably in Sticky Silk and Eventually Have Your Insides Sucked Out?' Think I'll ask the audience, Chris.
its a beauty, and the potato-stopping first class. id part with a few quid for a sequel too, tarantula vs alien 'n predator's tag team - anything without a love triangle with liv tyler preferably.
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