"Check you monoxide alarm" the spider has written in quipu.

I didn't know quipu.

So I forgot about it and went to sleep.

It looks like it was eternal sleep.

The Spider won't be happy about it.

They will need a new roommate.

"The winning numbers for the lottery are: 02 10 16 39 /24, only play them if you are prepared to survive a disaster in the capital." This is what I read written in a web, built in the corner of my tiny, sparsely furnished apartment bedroom. Wondering if playing a ticket would be worth the risk...

At first the advice had been basic, warning me of surprise visits, dropped cash, or a medley of little tips. I fed this clever spider a supply of bugs, which I carefully caught from clean woodlands.

In the end, I should've asked more questions because this zombie apocalypse which broke out in the capital and protecting the person responsible for processing state lottery payments is a big ask!

I'm not even a good fighter, sneaking around and creating distractions has worked out for us so far...