This morning, as I stumbled blearily past my roommate's terrarium and cricket death chamber, she/he/it/bird/spider licked her lips at me. I shit you not. I stopped and looked back at her, and he/she/it/bird/spider stopped moving for a brief moment and then continued running her pedipalps over her fangs. WHILE LOOKING RIGHT AT ME. I guess she/he/it/bird/spider hasn't learned yet to avoid biting the hand that feeds. I took another step toward the kitchen and the inevitable cup of coffee and Helob turned to the left to watch me while continuing to rub his/her/it/bird/spider's fangs. Disconcerting does not begin to describe the feelings engendered by my roommate's actions, especially considering how she/he/it/bird/spider is nearly blind.
Helob has been getting damn testy of late, refusing to get out of the way when I need to refill the water dish. He/she/it/bird/spider has reacted violently to my attempts to clean the terrarium of cricket corpses, striking out at the fork I use to scrap the dirt clean. I am a little worried that Helob might be meeting a rough crowd and experimenting with drugs and piercings. She/he/it/bird/spider has certainly attempted to pierce my water bottle and fork.
I should also mention the strange incident that happened last night. I heard a strange noise as I was falling asleep and thought that something had fallen over or perhaps a new roommate/tarantula food source was moving in. I turned on the lights and looked around for the source of the scuffling. I heard the strange scratching sound again, and it was definitely coming from the terrarium. I peered into Helob's dirty domain of cricket doom and saw her/him/it/bird/spider standing on the cricket's food dish. His/her/it/bird/spider's front pair of legs were on the ground and she/he/it/bird/spider was using his/her/it/bird/spider's pedipalps to lift the dish, which would then make the scratching-scuffling sound when the pedipalps lost their grip. Helob could only lift the dish about a centimeter before her/his/it/spider's weight caused Helob to drop the dish. I think the devious and deadly spider was trying to frighten the cricket that shelter underneath the food dish, but the meals of wheels weren't obliging him/her/it/bird/spider. Wanting some peace and quiet, and also to appease the great beast, I opened the terrarium and shooed the large-fanged and furry creature off the food dish. I carefully lifted the dish, not to avoid harming the crickets cowering underneath, but to avoid being attacked by a rabid tarantula. The crickets scattered for all corners of the terrarium, yet not a chirp was uttered. They had nowhere to run and no stage on which to sing and be free of the tyranny of venom enforced by Helob. I had a quiet night, but the next morning Helob's attitude toward me was decidedly un-passive and un-roommatey. Figures. I buy all the food and clean the place constantly and somehow, I'm the shithead.