You may remember Kenny from his previous adventures.

“Hey, Kenny here. There’ve been a few downturns for me since I last filled you in. It isn’t easy to be a Drider-American.

“First off, I lost my job at Home Depot. I know! How could they slough me off, with my gifts? Who can check the labels on the shop-vacs on the top shelf like a drider? And who could let that drider leave his warehouse of home improvement goods? My supervisor, that’s who. Mr. Ronald McParkerson.

So there I was, Tuesday at 5 pm. The Home Depot doesn’t really hop at that time, and I was just shootin’ the shit with some of the countertop guys over in the kitchen models. There’s a few shoppers lookin’ at the built-in wine racks nearby, and this little kid is bangin’ all the cupboard doors open and shut—I dunno, maybe they got those safety sprockets on ‘em at home, cuz he was pretty excited. Safety sprockets are in aisle 12b, by the way. So suddenly the little jerk looks up and sees me, in my eight-legged glory and my orange apron that says “KENNY” on it in Sharpie.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE! He shouts, like one of the High Priestess’s boy-slaves being disciplined, or a surfacer bein’ thrown into the spider pits. At first, I thought he slammed a cupboard on hisself, but he’s looking at ME, and next thing I know, the dad’s comin’ at me with a reasonably-priced replacement sprayer nozzle suitable for all standard kitchen sinks. WHACK!

”’Er, sir, there’s been some kinda misunder-’

”’Monster! Someone call security!’ WHACK!

”’Umm, sir, I’m a Home Depot associate, here to help you with all yer -’ WHACK! -‘cut that out!’

”’Patty, get a security guard!’ He rolled his eyes at Julio and Jack. ‘Dear God, people, why don’t you help me?”

“Damn idjit just wasn’t gonna stop. So I weighed my options. I could kill the guy, but from the Customer Care and Service class I took, I think it’d get me in trouble. So finally, I let rip with a darkness spell-thing, and ran for the nearest wall as the inky black of my subterranean home billowed from the empty air, an’ all that.

“Sweet Mother of Spiders, how they took off! And not just my nozzle-wielding bunch, but every customer as far as I could see, from the nursery wall where I was hangin’. ‘Gas!’ I heard them yell, ‘Terrorists!’ That upset the security guard, and the next thing you know the whole building’s evacuated and the police are takin’ Nozzleman’s statement. And me? Mr. McParkerson told me to take my coffee mug and leave my apron.

”’You can’t be firin’ me over this!’ I said, ‘It’s discrimination!’

”’You’re some kind of de-formed freak,’ he said.

”’That was an expression of my specialness!’

”’That was some kinda evil hell-fart, an’ it’s gonna cost the store thousands in revenues!’

”’I’m differently abled!’ I pleaded.

“The piggy little man’s eyes narrowed, and his face looked redder than ever above his orange apron. ‘From now on, you’re gonna be differently employed’.

“I broke his mug on my way out of the breakroom.”

Next Kenny chronicle—“Looking for Lolth in All the Wrong Places!”