Setting: A cozy living room in Bergen, Norway. A light drizzle patters outside the window. Two friends, Lars (the rational thinker) and Erik (the superstitious one), are sipping coffee and munching on cinnamon buns.
Erik: (shrieks)
Lars! Don’t move! There’s a spider on the wall! Just… just leave it!
Lars: (turns calmly)
Oh, that little guy? I’ll grab a tissue and—
Erik: (jumps up)
Don’t you dare! It’s bad luck to kill a spider, especially indoors. You want to bring snow in July or something?
Lars: (laughs)
Erik, we live in Norway. Snow in July is practically a midsummer tradition in the mountains.
Erik: I’m serious, man! My grandmother swore by it. Once, my uncle smacked a spider in her kitchen, and the next day his Volvo slid into a ditch. Coincidence? I think not.
Lars:
I think… that’s exactly what it was. Coincidence. Spiders don’t control car accidents. They barely control where they walk.
Erik:
Still. Why risk it? Spiders are nature’s little omens. You treat them with respect, or the universe bites back.
Lars:
You know, as a biologist, I do respect spiders. They eat pests like mosquitoes and flies. But believing they bring bad luck when squashed? That’s not science—that’s folklore dressed up in a spider suit.
Erik:
Folklore exists for a reason! You rational people always forget that. These beliefs kept our ancestors safe. Maybe not always logically, but practically.
Lars:
Okay, I’ll give you that. Traditions have roots. But modern science gives us tools to test those roots. There’s zero evidence that killing a spider causes misfortune. If anything, not removing spiders might just make your bedroom look like a Halloween display.
Erik: (defensive)
It’s not about cobwebs! It’s about energy. Like that time I stepped on a spider in April, and then I failed my driving test. Twice.
Lars:
That may have more to do with how you parallel park, Erik.
Erik:
It was a tight corner!
Lars:
Listen. I’m not saying you have to like killing spiders. I usually take them outside. But let’s not turn them into mythical harbingers of doom. That poor creature on the wall is probably just wondering why two giants are arguing over it.
Erik:
Easy for you to say. You didn’t grow up hearing tales of spiders that cursed entire fishing trips. My cousin Øyvind found a spider on his boat and ignored it. That weekend? Not a single cod. Not one.
Lars:
Maybe the cod heard Øyvind singing and decided to swim to Iceland. Look, how about this: you catch the spider and take it outside. Keep your luck intact. I won’t kill it, but I will make fun of you for turning it into a tiny wizard.
Erik: (grabbing a glass and a postcard)
Deal. But if I catch it and next week I win the lottery, you’re getting none of it.
Lars:
Fair. But if you don’t win, we agree it had nothing to do with the spider, right?
Erik: (traps the spider gently)
No promises. Some of us still believe in a little magic. Even if it’s eight-legged.
Lars: (smiling)
And some of us believe in data… and cinnamon buns. Speaking of which—are you going to eat that last one, or should I ask the spider for permission?
[They laugh, as Erik opens the window and lets the spider crawl out onto the rain-washed sill.]
Erik:
Fly free, little luck dispenser.
Lars:
May you continue to haunt the homes of Norway—and the minds of the superstitious.
[End scene.]
Science Vs Superstition 
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