Disclamer: I do not own anything aside from my own insanity.
Little droplets of an unknown sticky substance were slowly making their way down the hairy leg of a sleeping bird spider. The insect's peaceful rest was rudely interrupted by a grabbing hand that was connected by shoulder and neck to an enormous amount of fiery red hair.
"Sooooooooon, Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."
The ball of hair made a disgruntling noise which could only be described as the giggle of a maniacal fan girl.
The bird spider on the other hand would have laughed at the irony of fate, since the first and only actual flight of its' pathetically monotonous life was leading it straight down into a kettle full of an unidentified boiling liquid, but it was hindered by two very prominent facts. One of those being that, of course, spiders were not in the possession of lungs or vocal cords and thus, obviously, were not capable of committing the act of laughing. The second reason was that, even if the spider had been able to, in fact, laugh to its' heart content, the swift death by boiling/drowning/poisoning upon contact with the aforementioned fluid would have surely prevented it from doing so.
The contents of the kettle were carefully stirred by a wooden ladle (oak, since everything else would have intervened with the delicate potion), left to simmer for exactly three minutes and thirty three seconds, then bottled, corked and left unlabeled.
Come morning, neighbours would write off the creepy gurgling sounds, that could almost have passed for laughing, if not for their, well… creepiness, as the result of too many an hour spent at work, overtime.