"Shit!"

"What?"

"I think a fucking black widow just fell on my shoulder. Do you see it? Do you? Get it off. Get it off!"

"Hold still, I can't see anything with you jumping around like that."

"Okay, okay. I'm still. Do you see it?"

"No. There's nothing there."

"I feel like it's on me, though."

"I don't see anything."

"I'm taking off my sweater. Turn the flashlight on."

"Oh shit, it just fell out of your sleeve. It's on the floor."

"I knew it. Oh my God. Did it bite me?"

"You would know if it bit you."

"Can you still see it?"

"Yeah, it's just sitting there."

"Well, kill it. Kill it."

"Like, step on it?"

"Yeah, dummy, step on it. What if it bites Zoe, or something?"

"Yeah, because our one year old is always up here in the attic, crawling around."

"Just kill it."

"Couldn't we just put it outside?"

"Yeah, then it'll come back in and bite us all. You know how poisonous they are?"

"But it had the chance to bite you and it didn't."

"Are you seriously defending a black fucking widow. Just kill the damn thing, please." 

"Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm sure she wants to live as much as we do."

"It's a spider. They don't think like that. Wait, did you just call it 'she'?"

"It is a she."

"Oh Jesus, you're just like your hippy dippy mother. It's a fucking spider. An it. Not a she."

"If you wanna kill it, kill it."

"If you make me kill it, I'm gonna tell all our friends what a big pussy my husband is."

"And I'll tell everyone what a heartless bitch my wife is."

"Believe me, I'll win this one."

"Then kill it!"

"I will. Give me your shoe."

"Hell no. Find your own weapon. I'm not going to be your accessory to murder."

"Murder. Jesus."

"Go ahead."

"There! It's dead."

"Feel better?"

"Hell yes I do. One less black widow in this house. We are getting the whole place fumigated."

"Fine. I'm going back downstairs."