the Sultan Said, "Will It Be Heads, or Tales?"*

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The morning after the spider played Jackie Chan3 to my Godzilla (an incident that I admit I'm not proud of), there was no sign of him in my toilet. It was the first morning in several weeks that I was able to relieve myself without undue complication and delay. In fact, there was no sign of the spider anywhere at all. After weeks of my struggling against his stubborn determination, his perseverance, his imperturbable patience, it seemed I had finally managed to convince him that his dream was futile. At last, I'd taught him a lesson. At last, I'd won. I'd won!

I'd broken his spirit.

It was as if . . .

It was as if . . . I don't know.

It was as if one morning Scheherazade told the Sultan: "You win. Just kill me. I'm through spinning stories."