Once upon a time, there was a painting spider, one of those artistic species of spider, that live in the basements of museums and galleries. They live there alongside paintings left and forgotten for years; certainly a suitable place to spin the most impressive of webs. Our spider spun the best webs in the whole museum, and his house was really spectacular. All his efforts went into looking after the web, which he considered to be the most valuable in the world.

However, as time went on, the museum set about reorganising its paintings, and it started making space upstairs to put some of the basement paintings on display. Many of the basement spiders realised what was happening, and were cautious about it, but our spider paid it no mind:

-"Doesn't matter,"

he would say,

-"it'll just be a few paintings."

More and more paintings were removed from the basement, but the spider carried on reinforcing his web,

-"Where am I going to find a better place than this?"

he would say.

That was, until early one morning when, too quick for him to react, they took his own painting, along with the spider and his web. The spider realised that just for not having wanted to lose his web, he was now going to end up in the exhibition room.

In an act of strength and decisiveness, he chose to abandon his magnificent web, the web he had worked his whole life to build up. And it's a good job he did so, because that way he saved himself from the insect killer they were spraying on the paintings up in the exhibition room.

In his escape, after overcoming many difficulties, the spider ended up in a secluded little garden, where he found such a quiet corner that there he was able to spin an even better web, and became a much happier spider.