Spiderman

Then one day Spiderman thought Peter Parker was an impediment.

Peter was a drag. Peter was always under debts. Penny pinching bastard. Peter. Peter had no fans. Peter had no social life. Peter never achieved anything! Not a thing!

Peter was always in the lab plodding. But he never got any results. No discoveries, no inventions. He was such a, such a bumpkin.

Such an embarassment.

And so Spiderman killed Peter Parker. Starved him for food, thought and time.

And one day he found Peter dead in the room. (or so he thought)

And he dragged Peter's body out and away to the kitchen garden. There he dug a grave and buried him.

All the spiders of the neighbourhood rejoiced. They crawled up and down walls, hung from fans and cielings and clapped.

They talked and yelled and sang and made merry. And Spiderman, a little nervous, clapped and danced and swung with them.

But when the spiders quieted every day and lay in their webs, when there was no chatter, and when the lights went out in the city, Spiderman was afraid and wary

Because Peter
That measely eater
Though under the flowerbed
Was
not
quite
dead.

And called out
From beneath the mound
A muddy muffled sound-
I am not a spider, I am a man
Buried by the
Friendly
Neighbourhood
Spiderman!