Every summer my home is invaded, but -- so far -- each year I've managed to thwart the evil at my very threshold and bind it to a small, black box. The Mailbox... of Horrors!

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If a spider can be said to have a lair, this massive construction surely qualifies. It extends nearly two feet above the box, and several inches to all sides. Strewn with the exoskeletons of previous molts -- when this eight-legged mail monster was slightly smaller and marginally less terrifying -- it spirals down into a vortex of evil darkness that, more often than not, sports two or three ominously protruding legs.

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My daughter not only refuses to get the mail now, she doesn't even like entering through that door! I've found that giving the darkness a name makes it less frightening. Meet "Mortimer G. Cuddlebug"

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Don't be shy; he's certainly not! If you lean over he will actually rush out, in a rather alarming manner, to investigate. I don't think he's capable of actually leaping up at my face, but I trust you'll forgive me for not thoroughly testing that theory. I hope he's just reacting to my breath on the web, and isn't being drawn to the darkness in my soul or anything. (Not that my soul has a lot of darkness; I expect it's actually pretty shiny and bright.)

I don't know how the thing doesn't get fried in the 100+ degree direct sunlight on metal all afternoon; maybe he creeps behind the wooden shutters, or retreats into a fifth dimension. Late fall he just disappears, in the manner of Stephen KIng's IT, only to reappear each year mid-June or so.

If he sticks around until October the web will make a nice Halloween decoration.