Geeking out as a fear response.

If I were bit by a radioactive spider on my farm, and turned into a me-version of Spider-Man, it would go like this:

In the absence of my need for
real glasses, I could totes rock
 fake hipster glasses like the Beebs.

I would get to personally live that cool scene where I suddenly realize I don’t need to wear contacts anymore.  This would be the BOMB.  I just picture me putting the contacts in, realizing everything got blurry, taking them out, and then strutting outside to look at actual leaves on trees, and identify people from more than 20 feet away, NOT run into things, and generally do things that I, in my non-super-powered life, could never do.

I would also never worry about how heavy eggplant is ever again.  Reader, eggplant is HEAVY.  You fill a basket up and then you look at how far it has to go to reach the cart, and you realize filling a basket up was the dumbest thing you ever did.  This would no longer be an issue.  

If I could do this I would.

Not only does Spider-Man have super strength, but he’s also way flexible—so none of that lower back pain that results in all kinds of made up yoga contortions while picking peppers.  Never again!

In fact, the whole nature of the harvest would be dramatically changed.  Instead of going out and picking everything, I could just shoot it with my way-cool wrist webbing.  A quick jerk, and then all veggies would come to me where I would be reclining comfortably at the end of the row.

My Spidey-Sense tells me that these cows

are a bunch of jerks, hanging out in the

chicken pen, feasting on chicken feed.

Again.

Or maybe on top of the pole barn.  As a Me-Spider-Man, I would have the uncanny ability to climb and stick to all kinds of surfaces.  From my perch on top of the pole barn, I could also watch out for escapee cows and sheep.  

That is, ALL cows and sheep. 

I see it looking more
 like this.

For that matter, through industrious use of super strong webbing, I could just create fences that they can’t get out of.  Other non-super-hero farmers have come up with their own solutions to this problem, but we scoff at those systems on my farm.  Spidey-webbing it is.

Collecting eggs would also be quick and easy in the same way as the veggie harvest—though it would undermine the bonds of trust I am trying to develop with the hens.   I would have to use a gentle touch.  Reader, you know me.  Gentle?  With the comic book equivalent of a power tool?  Hm.

The mosquitoes would never be a bother again, as I would have a sweet costume including mask and gloves that would be totally mosquito proof.  Even if I took a day off from my rocking secret identity, I would have all that hyped up metabolism and imperviousness to drugs, toxins, and venom that would make their bites a total nonissue.

C'mon, Bro, I'll make you dinner.

I am a humanitarian by nature, though, so for the benefit of my fellow farm hands I’d probably just call my buddy the Batman and have him and his peeps come eat all the bloody demon spawn.

There’s probably a really developed seedy underground in my sleepy town that I could eradicate in my free time, too.

All this was going through my head today in the sweet potato fields when we ran into the Black Widows.  Who live there.  Where we were.  For hours.  Digging up their homes and basically doing things that, if I were an arachnid, I might have strong opinions on.

I am totally going to be a super hero.