Hooray for the Entomologist

“Get it off me!,” screamed the socialite, tearing blush satin in an attempt to brush the creature off. I edged through the crowd pushing into the hallway to get a look, as our host ran the other way to find insecticide. It wasn’t an insect, nor a spider although it had eight legs. Couldn’t be: too big, wouldn’t be able to breathe. I took hold of what should have been fangs and found only steel. “Somebody take the other fang!” No takers. Lucky for bad hydraulics. The robot disabled, clanging on the parquet. Predictably, nobody yelled, “Hooray for the entomologist!”