Moments later, the shop bell tinkled. She could sense customers before the bell went off each time but it was not to wake her. A low, soft, sleepy growl emanated through the cavern. Thousands of tiny feet scuttled.

 

She snapped elegant, sharp-nailed fingers and around fifty of her arachnid minions appeared holding a china tea cup between them, balanced on a saucer like an Empress' palanquin. Several hundred more scuttled out of the cup to evade the flow of purple liquid that she tipped from the teapot.

 

"Look lively for the bake sale, dearies," she smiled, "Unless you want to BE the bake sale."