It’s a warm, spring Saturday in April; the temperature is 75 degrees and the humidity is beginning to build in the atmosphere. Dorsey slept in today and it is well after one o’clock in the afternoon. The family is gone for the weekend, off to visit the grandparents and he has the entire house to himself. Smiling at his great fortune, Dorsey forgoes the shower, feeling content to scratch his pubic hair, as he makes his way to the kitchen. Once there, he opens the refrigerator and stands staring at the contents, trying to decide what options to pursue. After nearly a minute, he grabs a loaf of bread, some roast beef, cheddar cheese, horseradish and some banana peppers.
“I’m here alone. I can have all the gas I want.” He mutters to himself.
Closing the refrigerator with his foot, he moves to the counter and haphazardly drops everything down accept the jar of banana peppers. With jar in hand, Dorsey takes a cursory glance out of the window in front of him, and immediately yells out like a terrified child. Simultaneously, he jumps back three feet causing the jar of banana peppers to careen to the floor, where it smashes into hundreds of jagged, juice-covered pieces. Glancing down at the floor, Dorsey’s gaze quickly returns to the window, where on the other side of the glass, dangles a brown spider, nearly six inches long. Hanging from its web, the spider’s hairy, spindly legs are working feverishly, building a web.
Breathing heavily, and slightly holding his chest, Dorsey begins to sneer, once he realizes the mess he has to clean up.
Exiting the kitchen, Dorsey goes to the laundry room and retrieves a broom, a mop and a bucket. After filling the bucket with hot water and dish-washing detergent, he carries his weapons of choice back to the kitchen, where he outwardly curses once more, before beginning his task. Grabbing the broom, Dorsey sweeps up the shards of wet glass and spicy peppers into a pile. Once done, he begins to scan the immediate area looking for the dust pan. After scanning around to the left, he starts looking around back to his right, but as he does so, his eyes once again, fall on the spider in the window. Suddenly, the spider splays out, displaying its six by six inch body, stretched to its full capacity. Beyond his self-control, Dorsey screams out once more and jumps back, abandoning his broom. Milliseconds later, Dorsey drops down to his ass, grabbing at his foot, which throbs with mysterious pain. Exposing the bottom of his bare foot, he can see that a chunk of the base of the jar has embedded in his heel, and the spicy, vinegary juice of the banana peppers is seeping into his bleeding wound, turning a throb into a fiery blaze of pain. Pulling himself up onto one foot, he looks back out the window to see the spider maintaining its same posture, but now, it is swinging, to and fro, on its web.
“Are you… Are you taunting me, you creepy fucker?” Dorsey says aloud.
Looking down at his bleeding foot, Dorsey begins to limp out of the kitchen, but when he looks back, he notices that the spider, has latched on to window, crawling around on the glass. Dorsey can hear the very audible sound of its legs tapping the glass as it moves.
“That is it.”
Limping down the hall, leaving a bloody trail in his wake, Dorsey makes his way to the bathroom, with his soul settled about what he must do. As he rounds the corner into the bathroom, he hears a crack of thunder near by, ushering in the beginning of a spring rainstorm.
With the last remains of the spring shower dripping from the newly budding spring leaves, Dorsey finds himself digging through boxes in his garage. With his well-bandaged foot stuffed into a pair of mountain climbing boots, he pulls out a long length of rope and the necessary rigging to repel down the side of the house. After getting all of the equipment properly secured on his body, Dorsey goes back inside the house and up to the second floor landing. Next, he opens up the window in front of him and climbs out onto the roof. Climbing comfortably up to the chimney, he loops his rope around the heavy brick construct and knots it, insuring that it is secure. Then, he carefully steps towards the edge of the roof, above the kitchen window. After tugging on the rope to double check its sturdiness, he jumps backward off the roof, where he begins to dangle in mid-air. Expertly working the rigging, he begins to descend until he is level with the kitchen window, and he can even see the spider, crawling around the panes, as if searching for Dorsey on the opposite side of the glass. Feeling superior, Dorsey reaches into his back pocket, and pulls out a can of arachnid killer; ticks, spiders and scorpions beware. As he raises the can, poised to douse the spider in poison, it suddenly crawls up the window towards the gutter. From there, it attaches itself with its silk webbing, and descends once again towards the window, but this time, it is facing Dorsey, who is struggling to hold on to his grip and resolve. Then suddenly, the spider stops and hangs there, merely two feet away from the homeowner’s face.
“What the hell are you doing out here?”
Quickly, Dorsey looks behind him, as he hangs in mid-air, not surprised that there is no one there.
“Hey! Over here!”
Dorsey can hear the small, yet prominent voice coming from the direction of his window. Looking at the spider, fear ebbs into confusion, as a mild breeze causes the creature to sway ever so slightly.
“Not too smart, are you?”
“Are… Are you talking to me?” Dorsey asks in the arachnid’s direction.
“Yes, I’m talking to you. Who else would I be talking to?” The spider asks with strong annoyance.
“I don’t believe this. I must still be fucking sleeping.” Dorsey mutters to himself.
“If you were still sleeping, you wouldn’t be hanging outside the window, like some idiot.” The spider retorts.
“Who are you calling an idiot?” Dorsey asks.
“I’m calling you one. What are you even doing out here? Why aren’t you in that other room, staring at that flashing, colorful box?” The spider asks.
“Well, I… Uh…”
“What’s that in your hand? Were you going to spray me?” The spider asks.
“Well, uh yeah.”
“I don’t fucking believe this. I can’t believe your species sometimes. You were going to spray me. Me? What the hell for? I… I’m minding my own business. I’m minding my own business outside, and you were going to kill me for it. I don’t believe this.” The spider nearly yells at Dorsey.
“You started it.” Dorsey yells back, feeling justified.
“I started it!? I didn’t start anything!”
“You did! You were hanging in the window and scared the shit out of me! You made me drop the jar and cut my foot! This is your fucking fault!” Dorsey continues to yell.
“I can’t believe you’re blaming me for being a clumsy coward!”
“Who are you calling a coward?!” Dorsey asks menacingly, poised to spray once again.
“Look at you. You here the truth and are ready to kill over it.” The spider remarks.
“You were hanging there just to frighten me. Just fucking admit it!”
“I don’t care about you. Not one bit. I was making a web here, because there was a storm coming. You have faulty gutters, and the water collects up here. It draws the mosquitoes. They are swarming up there and getting stuck and I’m missing them, because of you. I saw you stumbling and falling. I couldn’t even be amused because it’s so sad. I’m not even in your house and you’re terrified.” The spider finishes.
“Uh… I don’t know what to say. I… Uh.”
“Why are you even hanging like that? Why not use a ladder like the standard human?” The spider asks directly.
“I thought it best to beat you at your own game. Repel down and kill you.”
“Thought that was clever, didn’t you?”
Smiling slightly, Dorsey answers, “Well, yeah.”
“That’s a real dick thing to do.” The spider remarks.
Stunned, Dorsey is unable to reply until he notices the spider is climbing back up his web.
“Where are you going?” Dorsey asks quickly.
“I’m going to get what’s left of my meal before the wind picks up and destroys my web. If you’re going to spray me, take your shot… So arrogant. I’m even outside. I could understand if I were crawling across your face, or sleeping in your shoe. You all don’t even know who the real enemy is.” The spider says, while continuing to ascend.
“Real enemy? What are you talking about?” Dorsey asks, but receives no answer.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Dorsey demands, but the spider does not speak again.
Dorsey can see that the spider has reached its web, where one large wasp mosquito has been trapped. The spider quickly begins cocooning it, ignoring the questioning human, dangling mockingly behind it. Giving up, Dorsey forgoes climbing back up to the roof, and simply repels down to the ground. Once there, he removes the rigging from his body, and returns to his garage. After placing most of his equipment back in the box, and putting the spider spray back on the shelf, he begins to head back into the house, when he feels a sudden biting pain on his neck. Quickly, he slaps the affected area, and when he looks at his hand, along with a smear of blood, there is dead horsefly, squashed, with one wing still slightly moving.
5/20/2011 4:23 AM
Written by: Sidra D. Owens