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About the Game:
A life-hack I read on the internet told me to avoid landlords who are late for the first meeting. If I had followed the life-hack, I wouldn’t be living where I live now,
My Landlord is a Spider. A life-hack I read on the internet told me to avoid landlords who are late for the first meeting.

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If I had followed the life-hack, I wouldn’t be living where I live now, which is in the sewer. So that’s another lesson I had to learn the hard way. I was waiting for a potential landlord who listed a decent basement bachelor on Kijiji. It was 2:23 pm and our meeting was for 2:15 pm. I thought I’d give the potential landlord the benefit of the doubt. I thought the best course of action would be to text the landlord with something like, “Hey, I’m here to look at the apartment when can I expect you?” A little nudge, you know? I didn’t even get the chance to send that text because right as I was considering sending it I got a text that said, “Look at your feet.” I looked at my feet. What I saw was a black spider the size of a quarter hopping on the keyboard of an iPhone 4S. Typing . I saw it type the words, “Don’t freak out: I’m the landlord.” Then I got another text from the same number. The text said, “Don’t freak out: I’m the landlord.” I put two and two together. “You’re the landlord?” I asked. “Yes,” the spider said. I was afraid of spiders. “Are you afraid of spiders?” my spider landlord asked. “Great. Then everything is fine. My name is Selby, by the way. Let’s go take a look at the place.” I followed Selby to the basement entrance, which was at the side of the building. She told me to follow her and then she scuttled through the gap between the door and the floor. I opted for the more traditional open-door-and-walk-through-it method. The apartment was only one room, it had only one window, a hot plate instead of a stovetop, and a bar fridge instead of a full fridge—but it wasn’t gross and it was in my price range. Actually it was kinda gross and a little bit out of my price range. I told Selby I’d take it. The first few days were great. But things stopped being so great when my girlfriend Dakota came over to visit for the first time. I was excited have her over to the new place, but I didn’t want to admit right at the outset that my landlord was a spider. I figured she might not like that. I didn’t think it was a big problem—I just thought the situation was abnormal and so it might be better to ease into. I wanted to wait a little bit, wait until she said, “The apartment is perfect!” before I said, “Yeah, there’s just one thing and it’s totally cool but my landlord is a spider.” Anyway, it didn’t work out like that. When Dakota arrived she had to pee, so she went straight into the washroom and then I heard a scream and then a thud and I figured she had just killed Selby. I burst into the washroom. “A little privacy!” Dakota said. “Sorry,” I replied. “But I heard a scream.” “Just a spider. Don’t worry, I got it.” “What do you mean got it ?” “I squished it with my shoe.” “I picked it up with some toilet paper and threw it in the bowl.” “You’re peeing on it?” “That’s desecrating a corpse!” Dakota gave me weird look. “I didn’t want to flush twice,” she explained. “I hate the sound of flushing. Floosh flanananana gaga gaga GLUNK aaaahhhh ,” she said, impersonating a toilet, shuddering at the end. “I hate that sound. They should make silent toilets, I’d buy one.” “There’s something urgent I need to tell you,” I said. I explained to her the whole deal: spider landlord, etc. She was freaked out at first, but calmed down quickly. I fished the spider out of the toilet, sprawled its lifeless body on the white tile floor and took a good look to see if I could recognize the body as Selby’s. Inconclusive. “So how’d your landlord get transformed into a spider? Was it a curse?” “She’s always been a spider,” I said. “I think so, at least. Either way, you shouldn’t assume those who are different than you have been cursed.” “Whatever. Is this her?” I got out a magnifying glass for a second look, but all I saw was the same thing but bigger. “Inconclusive,” I said. I thought I’d bring the question right to the source: Selby my spider landlord. I didn’t want to text her “are you dead?” though, because that would just introduce more questions on her end. Instead, I did the classic fake-text-to-the-wrong-number trick. “Hey Rodney,” my text to Selby began, “you still up for a movie tonight?” “Wrong number,” Selby texted back. “This is Selby, your landlord.” “That settles it,” said Dakota. “Now, let’s watch a movie or something.” “What? No, we still have to deal with this,” I said, pointing at the dead spider lying between us on the floor.

Boyaa fight landlord hack

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