a nearly satisfactory hypermegaultraquantumcompumultiversalnet creation

The Spider

The Spider (abridged, and with apologies to Edgar Allen Poe)

once upon a weekend dreary, chores completed made me weary
the cause of which was sweeping and scrubbing, o'er each and every floor.
while i sat there nearly dreaming, suddenly i started screaming
as i began sorely screeching, screeching at my bedroom floor
"kill it, please," i sorely shouted, "kill it on my bedroom floor -
only this and nothing more."

presently my eyes grew wider, cursed spider, can't abide her
"death," said i', "arachnid. truly your demise i do implore;
but the fact is i so hate you, and must hasten to erase you
from this earthly plane's existence, so you exist nevermore."
that the screams meant i did see you, crawling 'cross my bedroom floor -
merely this and nothing more.

running to the closet screaming, all the while crazy seeming,
searching high and low for something, something for the bedroom floor.
"surely," yelled i, "surely there is something in this closet right here,
to eradicate this nightmare, and destroy the thing for sure.
let my heart be still a moment, to find the tool i need so sore -
solely this and nothing more.

grab the broom and start a sweepin', surely wish i still was sleepin'
now i'm stuck awake and fighting this dread nightmare on my floor.
with fury sweeping into conscious, i consciously sweep the floor.
"get thee back into the tempest and the night's plutonian shore!
take thy eight accursed legs from off my sparkling bedroom floor -
only this and nothing more"

and the spider ever cunning, starts across the floor a running
o'er unblemished tiles so squeaky, eight legs look sixteen,
runs its way into the closet, ran underneath the closet door. 'tis freaky.
"demon!" squeals i, "my poor attire, to wear again i'll ne'er aspire
because you done gone and run under, my cursed bedroom closet door -
those clothes to be worn nevermore."