A board is propped upright beside me, for dropping on the enemy from a height. It also doubles as a place to practice that tap sequence from Monday that I seem to have forgotten (which annoys me, because how am I supposed to practice and improve if I can't remember it in the first place?).
A slab of pure marble that I found on the dryer rests in my lap. The sucker's got to be at least eight pounds, probably more. This is also for dropping on the enemy from a height.
A long piece from a set of wooden blocks sits on my choreography table beside me, for parry-thrusting the enemy as it tries to scale the walls. Provided I can bear to bring my bare hand to within eight and a half inches of that thing. (Ugh. I can't even bear thinking of the crunch it'll make... ugh. *shudders*)
And though it's annoying me to no end, I'm still wearing my shoes.
You, spider, will die. I have to finish a very intricate piece of choreography and do my dad's tax papers before the first of November. The more you ruin my concentration and throw off my project-accomplishing trajectory, the more horrible your end will be.
So, last chance. Get out of my room. Lest it become your coffin.
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