(The following is a nonprofit work of fanfiction and is outside of the original canon. All names, characters, businesses, places, events, and/or incidents of any kind depicted within this story are being used for entertainment purposes only.)

(The Loud House and all related characters were created by Chris Savino and all rights belong to Nickelodeon. Spider-Man and all related characters were created by Stan Lee and Steve Ditko and all rights belong to Disney)

- Issue #04 -

The Procession

Later that day...

"Honey, couldn't you have used a step ladder instead?" Rita asked her husband, her voice flavored with a sense of worry. "It'd be a whole lot safer that way."

"Ah but doing it like this is way faster and easier," Lynn Sr. told her with a confident smile, as he stood precariously on a wooden chair, carefully removing the dead lightbulb from the overhead fixture on the kitchen ceiling. "It would only take a lot longer to get the ladder from the garage anyway." Rita shook her blonde-haired head at this as she watched him while standing at the kitchen doorway, her arms crossed and an unsure frown on her face.

Watching her husband do this was enough to almost send her into having a heart attack. It did not help when she had noticed that his brown hair had slowly garnered a grayish tint in the last four years. Rita knew that she and her husband may still be fine in their current age, but she was also very aware that the two of them were not as spry like they use to be. It did not help when she saw the chair tilt slightly to the side.

"Lynn, you're almost fifty years old, and I'm not that far behind myself," she pointed out to him. "I'm just afraid that you're going to fall off that thing at any second now and break something, like your neck or maybe your hip." Lynn Sr. scoffed and kindly brushed such a colorful notion off.

"Rita, I may be old, but I'm not THAT old. Well, not yet anyway," he argued as he bent down and placed the dead lightbulb on the kitchen counter and grabbed a fresh one next to it. "And besides, Tom Cruise is almost sixty and he is still fit as a fiddle." Rita's hands fell on her hips, and she shot her husband a deadpanned expression.

"Except you're not Tom Cruise, Lynn." she said to him flatly.

Lynn Sr. made an audible snort and then he muttered "Love you too, dear." in a sardonic tone. With that, the family patriarch reached his arms up with the brand-new lightbulb and he carefully twisted it all the way inside the overhead socket on the ceiling. He looked over at his wife and told her to go ahead and flip the switch. She flipped up the light switch, and sure enough, the lightbulb had illuminated nice and brightly as if it were the midday sun. Lynn Sr. smiled triumphantly.

"Ha! And there you have it." he intoned proudly. "We now have light. Forty soft glowing watts of it." As he started to ease his way down from the chair, Rita stood closely behind him in case he were to fall backwards. Though to be honest, her husband was more worried that he might fall and hurt her in the process just as much as she was worried for him. Thankfully, it never came to that, and he came down perfectly fine and unscathed.

"Now then," he said, right before throwing the burned out lightbulb in the trash. "Let's see what's on the list for dinner tonight." As Lynn Sr. walked over to the front of the fridge, Rita took the chair and placed it back into the dining room with the other chairs around the table.

Lynn Sr. peered at his written schedule that was pinned on the door of the refrigerator with a small magnet. When he could not decide what it was he wanted to make tonight, he vehemently shrugged his shoulders. Guess they were all going to have leftovers tonight. With this in thought, Lynn Sr. decidedly walked on over to the living room, plopped down in the middle of the coach, and turned on the television set. And then he was welcomed to quite an interesting-looking commercial.

"Four thousand dollars, people!" an announcer in the tv cried out excitedly. "That's right! Four thousand dollars will be given to the one contestant lucky enough to win on one of America's highest rated shows on the market, 'So, You Think You've Got Talent?'! And it's all going down right here at the Royal Woods Theater this coming week on Sunday night at six P.M.! Think you have what it takes to show us your best talent and win it big?!"

Lynn Sr. chuckled and then shook his head mildly, flipping to the next channel. Right at the moment of doing so, the front door began to twitch and turn, and then it opened all the way to reveal Lori and the other kids, having been picked up from their respective schools. The father stood back up from the coach, and approached his children, asked them if they had a good day and what not, the usual thing to say. And then, he took notice of Lincoln, who kept half his face covered by his orange hood.

"Hey there, sport," he said to his son, hugging him tightly in a warm embrace, not even noticing that Lincoln had let out a pained grunt, and then releasing him. "How did the field trip go? Did you have a good time?" Lincoln only grunted again and struggled to look up at his father in a way that made it look like he was barely acknowledging his questions.

"I-It was great, D-Dad," he muttered almost hoarsely. Luckily, the family patriarch caught this and furrowed his brows in both confusion and a little bit of worry.

"Are you okay there, son?" he asked. "You sound like you're coming down with something." Lincoln rose a trembling hand at his old man in protest.

"I-I'm fine, Dad," he said in a shaky tone. "I j-just need to lie down for a minute." Before the fifteen-year-old teen could even make it to the first foot of the stairs, Lynn Sr. stopped him for a moment and placed the back of his hand on his forehead. The father was a bit perturbed by how high his temperature was.

"Whoa, you are really burning up," he stated before lifting his son's white hair up to get a better look at him. "Oh, my goodness." Before long, he called after for his wife. Rita came into the living room from the dining room, and when she saw her son, she was surprised by what she was looking at.

"Oh, my word," she said concernedly. "Lincoln, you look sick as a dog." And the Loud mother was not joking at all. Lincoln's face seemed to be just as pale as Lucy's and the circles under his mildly bloodshot eyes were dark. Beads of sweat started to permeate around his brow.

"I feel s-sick as a dog," he muttered with a slight stammer. "I... I think I-I need to go to my r-room and sleep this off."

"Don't you worry, baby," Rita affirmed. "Why don't you let your father help you up to your room? I'll make you some hot chicken noodle soup in a moment." Lincoln slightly nodded at his mother's words.

"T-Thanks, Mom," he conceded. "T-That would be nice."

"Here, son," the Loud father said, putting a hand on his boy's shoulder. "Let me help you up the stairs. You look like you're about to faint at any second now." But as soon as they started up, Lynn Sr. noticed that Lincoln seemed to be struggling to lift his own feet up, like as if some weighted dumbbells' were tide to his trembling ankles. But despite that, both father and son managed to reach the top of the stairs and into the second-floor hallway and then down to Lincoln's bedroom.

"You just rest easy now, okay?" Lynn Sr. said to Lincoln. "Your mother will be in here with your soup in a little while." And just like that, he closed Lincoln's bedroom door nice and shut, leaving his son by himself.

Lincoln felt like he was going to throw up at any given second now. It wasn't so bad when he and his friends had returned from the field trip at the genetics lab. By that point, it had only come up as a mild headache, nothing a little aspirin could not fix. But nothing had happened and his headache persisted. When school was finally over, when he and Lynn were picked up and sat in Vanzilla on the way home, he had started to feel a bit worse.

Now, here at home in his own bedroom, it was all starting to become so overwhelming that it made it next to impossible to even think straight. It felt like his brain was trying desperately to force its way out through his skull. His stomach did not feel like it was in any good shape either, like someone had deliberately set it on fire with a full box of matches. He stood inside his bedroom as he clutched onto his stomach in pain and his legs were beginning to feel like they were turning into gelatin.

The thumping of his heartbeat rang fiercely in his ears. It did not help that his entire room appeared like it was now almost spinning, making him become very nauseous. Lincoln had never felt this terribly sick in his entire life before. The flu, the common cold, they were practically a case of dandruff compared to what he was feeling right now.

As careful as he could be, he slowly walked over to his bed, all the while taking off his hoodie and t-shirt to expose his scrawny yet now deathly pale frame, not even bothering to attempt to take off his pants next. His left leg had suddenly given out and he fell down almost face first onto the half-blanketed mattress. Lincoln turned to his side and shakily covered himself with his blanket. After that, the pain started to become even worse, forcing him to curl up into a fetal position.

He struggled to gander down at his left hand, gazing at the bite mark where that little spider had bitten him back at the trip.

It was now terribly enflamed, a lot redder than what was humanly possible, not to mention that it was also quite swollen to the size of a marble. Lincoln's eyes bulged in confusion as well as in terror. How could a very small spider bite like that do something like this? What did that spider do to him? Just what in the world was happening? One logical conclusion said to him that the spider had poisoned him.

He mentally cursed at himself. Why didn't he see this coming sooner? Why didn't he go to the nurse's office straight away when they came back to school?

Now, he was lying down on his bed, potentially dying from whatever kind of lethal toxin the spider had injected him with, all because he chose not to say anything, thinking that it was not that much of a deal. Great, as if things were not already sucky enough. Might as well add this to the roster of his bad luck moments. He began to shake uncontrollably, chills suddenly going over his entire body. He huddled underneath his blanket, all the while trembling almost violently, teeth chattering.

Please, God! he mentally begged, tears starting to build up in his eyes. I'll do anything You want! Just make the pain stop! I don't want to die! As a last-ditch effort, he tried to let out a scream. But nothing came out except for a hoarsed grunt. He tried again but very hard this time. The only thing he managed to say was a very quiet and meek sounding, "H-Help..." It was so small that it barely carried over a whisper, not even strong enough to break through the barriers of his bedroom walls.

He felt completely paralyzed, totally helpless and vulnerable, trapped with no way out as his body began to change dramatically. But then, his vision started to blur and darken. Lincoln had realized - too late - that his body had now given out, closing his eyes with a faint, the shock of everything happening all at once becoming too much for him to bear. And he fell into a forced slumber, into the dreamworld within the confines of his mind.

The streets were dark and misty, the night sky an ominous shade of purple and blue. Not a single cloud was seen, not even the moon itself was present.

His heartrate was almost through the roof as he made a sharp turn towards the mouth of an alleyway. The alley was coated in a thick blanket of darkness, making it so there was nothing in there that he could see. But then, he heard a terrible shriek coming from another direction. It was close now. So very close. Not wanting to take any chances, Lincoln darted head-on into the alleyway, running past dumpsters and trash cans and whatnot. Thick layers of spiderwebs were everywhere.

"You cannot escape from me, boy!" A hissing, unhuman-sounding voice bellowed from behind him.

Lincoln could not help but turn his head around, even though he knew he shouldn't, and what he saw made every hair all over his teenage body stand up at all ends. Emerging from the fogged streets and gaining after him at full speed within the confines of the alley was something giant, with long and hairy eight legs almost as thick as spears, and an enormous abdomen colored blue with stylized red stripes going across the sides. Its fangs slavered with a hungry determination.

It was almost like he was staring at a long-lost descendant of Shelob from Lord of the Rings.

There has to be a way out of here! Lincoln thought, running frantically in his orange pajamas. There just has to be! Quick as a flash, Lincoln rounded another corner, only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw standing in front of him was nothing but a tall brick wall, completely blocking his path. He desperately eyed around the place but found nothing. A horrible realization came to him. He was trapped like a cornered and defenseless animal.

His skin crawled terribly, and his heart thumped even faster in his chest when he heard a familiar hissing sound coming from behind him. He slowly turned around until he was now face-to-face with the very object, the symbol of this current nightmare. The giant spider gazed down at him, ravenous hunger possessing its four soulless black eyes that stared down at him, like they were piercing deep into his heart and soul, green spittle oozing from its sharp and cruel-looking fangs.

A low, guttural laugh resounded from its twisted excuse for a mouth.

"There's nowhere else to run, boy!" it hissed triumphantly, drawing slowly closer. Lincoln defensively held his right arm up in front of himself, dread continuing to take a hold of him.

"G-Go away!" he exclaimed in a shaky voice, all the while fearfully backing away. "Please, just... j-just go away!"

Unbelievable. Here he was, a fifteen-year-old teenager and he was just a second away from crying like a little kid. Suddenly, Lincoln's bare left foot had slipped on something, and before he knew it, he fell down hard and flat on his back. In that sudden moment, the world around him vanished into a whirling black mist. But then, instead of laying on something hard and concrete, Lincoln felt something quite sticky and wire-like.

He looked at his new environment and saw to his horror that he was now right in the dead center of a giant, perfectly-made spiderweb. His brows knit together when he realized that something was not quite right with the web. He looked closely at one of the thick silky threads around him and to his surprise, the web-lines were strongly shaped like DNA strands and situated within those strands were even more webs as well, with very tiny spiders of their own crawling around them.

Lincoln felt a terribly cold shiver run down his spine when that familiar raspy laugh was heard again. He gazed up to see a giant shadow looming above him. The irises of his blue eyes shrunk into dots when he realized that the shadow dangled further down to reveal itself as the giant red and blue spider. The monster glided down ever so closely to the defenseless teen, its fangs twisting into what could possibly resemble an evil-looking grin, and its four eyes now glowed a neon green.

Its long eight legs outstretched in excitement. Lincoln bit down the bottom of his lip as he struggled desperately to try and free himself from the thick DNA web, with little to no success. He truly was completely trapped, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Knowing that made Lincoln let out a choking sob, fresh hot tears falling down his face, as he laid helplessly stuck to the web as if he were strapped to an operating table. More like a dinner table in this case. And he was the main course. The giant spider loomed down even further until its face was now several inches away from touching the white-haired teen's. Lincoln had never felt so terrified in his entire life. Not like this. This was something else. Something beyond fear, beyond terror.

"You... are... MINE!" the giant spider cried out. With that, it lifted its head up and it bared its sharp fangs that were as thick as swords, green saliva dripping from the pointed tips.

Lincoln quickly and tightly shut his eyes and he let out a blood-curdling scream at the top of his lungs across the webbed void that surrounded him.

Lincoln's eyes snapped wide open, waking up with a terrible gasp as he shot himself straight up on his bed. His fear-stricken gaze darted all over the place, only to see that to his realization that he was no longer surrounded by a giant web, and the giant spider was nowhere to be seen. Lincoln was back in his own bedroom. A dream. It was all just a vey bad dream. Knowing this, he leaned back down on his bed, breathing out a sigh of relief. He wiped some sweat off from his head.

He was definitely not going to read Charlotte's Web the same way ever again.

What time is it right now? He turned to his right side to see his desk sitting next to his bed and looked at his clock. It was almost eight o'clock in the evening. Huh, so he had been out for five hours? He then took notice of something that was carefully placed right next to the clock. It was an untouched bowl of chicken noodle soup with a spoon in it. It was probably cold at this point.

Lincoln wiped off some more sweat from his brow. He stop and then realized something. His headache, his fever. It was now gone. All gone. With relief, he carefully moved aside his blanket and stood up from his bed, feeling just a little bit groggy, but not as badly as before. He looked down at himself and found that he was still only dressed in his blue jeans. He took this opportune moment to try and orient himself.

That was odd. If he did not know any better, he could have sworn that he now felt different. Not a bad kind of different. It was more like... well, something. Well, at least he wasn't sick anymore, so that was a major plus. But what he felt now after that, it was kind of a wonder. He carefully stretched out his arms above his head and took in a few deep breaths. How very strange. He felt good. Very good. No. Maybe even better. Nope, not that either. He felt great..., absolutely wonderful.

Like his entire body was now charged with some sort of fantastic energy.

He whirled his gaze over, taking a quick glance of himself in the full-length mirror hanging up on his bedroom door. He blinked a few times to make sure that he wasn't seeing things. But no, he wasn't seeing things. He saw very clearly – a lot more clearly than he originally could before – that he not only felt different, but he also looked like it as well. Gone was the emaciated, weak-looking body that had belonged to Lincoln Loud.

Now, in its place was a more nicely toned form. He now appeared to be quite lean with a perfect addition of musculature. He looked down at his abdomen. Dear goodness. He had a six-pack. He now had a six-pack! He stared wide-eyed and mouth agape at his own reflection. Just earlier today, he was practically thin as a pencil. But now... Now he almost appeared like he was a Greek god. He saw that nothing was overdone though, not like Arnold Schwarzenegger or Kevin Sorbo.

It was perfect. His chest, arms, shoulders. Just perfect.

Lincoln ran his hand across his white hair. Things had just gotten a lot weirder. These thoughts were interrupted when his stomach suddenly rumbled quite audibly. Wow, he had not realized that he was now really hungry. In fact, he was hungry like crazy. So much so, he could eat an entire moose in one go. But he wanted something specific, but he had a very good idea what. A certain kind of craving flooded through his mouth, making him eagerly lick his lips.

Before he could make it out the door, he stopped himself when he realized that he was still shirtless. Going through his dresser drawer, he found a simple white t-shirt and went for his orange flannel button-up that hung on a rack to the right. Once after that was all done, he walked out of his bedroom, and trotted on down to the bottom of the stairs. Moving towards the dining room archway to his left, Lincoln saw that the whole family had just started having dinner.

"Hey there, son," Lynn Sr. beamed from the table, noticing him. And then, the rest of the family noticed him as well.

"What are you doing out of bed, honey?" Rita asked her son. "Aren't you still sick?"

"How are you feeling, Lincoln?" Lori asked, getting up from her seat and walking over to place her hand on her brother's forehead.

"Yeah, are you okay, Linky?" Lola asked with great concern for his wellbeing.

"I feel fine, guys," he answered with an appreciative smile, gently pushing Lori's hand away. "Actually, I feel really great."

"Are you sure, bro?" Lynn asked from her side of the table, looking at her brother with a curious frown. "Cause earlier today, you looked like you caught a bug or something." Oh, I think I might have caught more than just a bug, Lynn. Lincoln rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, as you can see, I got better," Lincoln confirmed. Lisa looked over at the clock that hung on the wall and then gandered back at her older brother.

"Within a span of precisely five hours?" the eight-year-old bespectacled genius questioned. Lincoln merely shrugged his shoulders, unable to find the proper logical explanation to give her.

"Well, that's what happened, Lisa," the brother simply stated. "I don't know how to explain it. Switching gears here, I am REALLY hungry right now. What are we having?"

"Leftovers," Lynn Sr. proclaimed admittedly. "I didn't exactly have anything else planned tonight, so we've all settled for having Mexican again."

"Go ahead and take a seat, sweetheart," Rita said, sitting closely next to her husband.

Quick as a flash, Lincoln took his preferred seat. His eyes darted everywhere at every single food item placed around the table, but his brows scrunched together and he frowned. There was nothing on the table that looked appetizing to him. There was no meat at all, just refried beans, black olives, sour cream, shredded cheese and lettuce, corn tortillas... but no ground beef, or any kind of meat for that matter. And that was what he was craving right now. He gazed over at his parents at the left side of the table.

"Do we have any protein?" he asked. Rita and Lynn Sr. looked at their son strangely. Lynn Sr. blinked a few times.

"I'm sorry, what?" the father asked, having some trouble understanding what his son had just said to them.

"Protein," Lincoln repeated himself, almost impatiently now. "Do we have any protein in this house?"

The two parents looked at each other in confusion. When the other Loud siblings heard this coming from their own brother, they were quite confused upon hearing this as well. Rita and Lynn Sr. looked back at their son, but before they could give an answer, Lincoln had already disappeared from his seat. They gazed on over and saw that he was now within the confines of the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator.

"Lincoln, what are you doing?" Rita called to her son, following after him around the corner and into the kitchen along with her husband. Lincoln lifted his head up from the refrigerator. Both mother and father noticed that he now in his two hands a large plate of four thick slices of leftover meatloaf Lori had made only two days ago before. Without even acknowledging their presence, Lincoln zoomed passed his parents and returned to his seat at the dinner table.

"Lincoln, we are having Mexican, not meatloaf." Lucy said in her signature emotionless tone. But Lincoln ignored his little sister, licking his lips and rubbing his hands together with impatience and anticipation, hunger completely overtaking his mind.

Without even picking up a spoon or a fork, he dove right in to the meatloaf with his hands, almost ravenously stuffing and chewing everything that made it into his mouth, not even once stopping to relish the taste of the mixed flavors. Everybody around the table stared at him in silence. Half of them were surprised while the rest were very much weirded out from this sudden behavior, even five-year-old Lily was just about taken aback. But Lincoln paid them no mind.

"... the best meatloaf I've ever had in my life..." he mumbled to himself, just before taking another mouthful. "... so good..."

"Something is literally wrong here," Lori whispered over to Lynn, without taking her eyes off of Lincoln. The sporty Loud girl nodded her head in agreement.

"Yeah," she whispered back at her. "... Nobody likes your meatloaf." The eldest sibling shot her younger sister an unamused death stare. In a matter of a few seconds, Lincoln's plate was now entirely cleared. He let out a loud burp, and then he groaned in satisfaction. It was then that he finally noticed that his family were still staring at him. Why are they looking at me like that?

"What...?" he questioned, not sure on what to say about this. "I just wanted some protein."

"We can clearly see that," Lucy said, raising an eyebrow from behind her raven-black hair, still weirded out by what she just saw. Normally, Lucy liked weird. But for the twelve-year-old goth, this was something else to behold. She understood that her brother was kind of going through puberty at this time of his life, but the last time she checked, puberty did not involve sudden food cravings that just came out of the blue. At least not to her knowledge.

"Lincoln, what happened to your hand?" Lana asked suddenly, sitting next to Lincoln's left. Now this caught all of their immediate attention. Lincoln looked down at his left hand and realized what his little sister was referring to. The bite mark on his hand. But it now appeared to be a little bit different. It was no longer deeply red, displaying now a light shade of pink, and the swelling had subsided only a small bit. Right on the spot, Lincoln had to think up a lie.

"Oh that? I-It's nothing, Lana. Just a little bug bite." he said to them, trying to hide it away. Okay, it was not exactly a complete lie, but he knew that there were specific details better off not mentioning. The last thing Lincoln wanted right now was the possibility of his whole family freaking out should they learn about their only male sibling being bitten by a genetically modified spider.

"Eww..." Lola, the little pageant queen exclaimed. "You call that little? It looks like there's something growing inside! Eek! I think it just moved!" Lincoln rolled his eyes at his pageant queen of a sister's exaggeration.

"You stay right there, honey," Rita told her son as she got up from her chair and moved over to his side. "Let me get a good look at it."

"Mom, I'm fine," Lincoln tried to assure. "I swear, I feel fine." Not listening, Rita took Lincoln's hand and examined the bug bite, her eyes carefully scanning for anything that might be amiss. She furrowed her brows and pursed her lips.

"Well, it looks like its healing up nicely," she concluded. "But when did this happen?" Lincoln hesitated for a moment before finally giving her the answer.

"W-Well, I must have got it on the way back to school from the field trip," he explained. "I wasn't exactly paying attention to what it was. All I knew was that I felt something bite me, swatted it away, and then it died." Again, it wasn't a complete lie, but he was still leaving out the details. Again, he did not want to risk making them worried.

"Are you sure that you will not be needing any medical assistance?" Lisa conjectured, adjusting her rounded glasses. Lincoln shook his head.

"No, I'm pretty sure, Lisa," he confirmed. But then, Lincoln's ears suddenly perked when a small buzzing sound was heard, and a small black dot flew by in front of Rita. In that instant, senses all over his body kicked into overdrive. "–Watch it!"

Within twenty-eight microseconds, Lincoln whipped his hand up in a fast blur in front of his mother and grabbed the flying dot with his thumb and finger. Rita nearly yelped in surprise when Lincoln had done so, and everybody else around the table virtually jumped out of their seats. When Rita had relaxed a bit, she saw the black dot that was now trapped in-between Lincoln's fingers. Then she heard a small buzz, and right from that, she had realized that...

"Lincoln," she muttered. "...That's a fly." Lincoln looked at his mother curiously, and then at the small buzzing insect in his hand. True to her word, it was a small housefly, its red bulging eyes and its little legs moving around frantically to escape. Lincoln stared almost wide-eyed when he finally registered what had just happened. What he had just done.

"Oh..." he murmured lowly. "So, it is."

"Whoa," Lynn said impressively, her eyes wide as they could be. "Lincoln, that was awesome. When did you learn to do that?"

"I...I-I don't know, Lynn," Lincoln stammered lightly, still staring at the fly in unsureness. I don't think I've ever learned to do something like this at all before. No way. There was just no possible way any human being in the world could be able to catch a fly like that with such inhuman level of speed. Well, unless you were a highly skilled ninja. But Lincoln started to feel like it was more than that, like he was much faster than a ninja.

Sensing the growing awkward silence, Lincoln got up from his chair, and approached the front door of the living room, and he let the fly go, allowing it to buzz freely into the world around it. After closing the door, Lincoln returned to the dining room table but did not take his respective seat as he looked around at his family. Man, he had never felt this awkward and uncomfortable in a long while. In another desperate attempt to try and break the silence, Lincoln opened his mouth to speak.

"I'm gonna go use the bathroom!" he said rather quickly. And with that, he sped right up the stairs and headed into the bathroom at the opposite end of the hallway, shutting the door and locking it tightly. Lynn Sr. blinked a few times before turning to face the rest of his family.

"What in the ding dang world was that all about?"

And so, it begins.

Fun little fact you should know about some of the scenes that I used for this chapter. The scene where Lynn Sr. is changing the lightbulb is a reference to the one from the first Spider-Man movie, where we first see Uncle Ben changing the lightbulb, and Aunt May is watching him to make sure he doesn't get hurt.

The other ones where Lincoln is eating a large plate of meatloaf and catches a fly with his bare fingers is a reference to the same one scene from The Amazing Spider-Man with Andrew Garfield, where catches a fly and raids his aunt and uncle's fridge. Pretty nice, eh?

So, anyway, don't forget to send me your reviews and tell me what you guys think and/or what I could do to make this scene better.

Have a fun day.