“Excuse me, sir, there’s a sticky white mess gumming up the forklift. I can’t move these pallets.”
“That cunt Spiderman,” the foreman grumbles, “what, does he think his web disappears? It has the tensile strength of titanium.”
Alvin sets back to painstakingly chipping away at the now rock hard web. If this continues he will die a young, sad man.
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