10/27/2006: "Spider, I hardly know her."

The Scene, the workplace. A simple quasi cluttered desk . A redhead works late into the night. The click of typing is halted by the sudden an certainly unexpected appearance of a large, gray , spider on the desk, just to the right of the keyboard.

Me: Well hello there.

Spider: What up Biatch!

Me: uh. I’m sorry what did you call me?

Spider: That’s right, you heard me.

Me: uh, wow. I don’t know what is more frightening, the fact that you can speak English or the caustic tone in which you butcher the language

Spider: We ain’t all Charlotte ‘ight.

Me: Right. Um. What exactly are you doing. Is there something I can help you with?

Spider: oh why you gotta be all up in my spider grill like that?!

Me: Wow, you are one punk ass arachnid. What is your damage dude? Do you need a hug or something?

Spider: oh no you didn’t!

Me: Look, in case you haven’t notices, this is MY desk. And I’m trying to work, so if you’ve nothing specific you need that I can help you with, would you mind taking a hike.

Spider: (crossing four of his legs in defiance) I don’t think so. Don’t make me bust out the venom miss muffet cause I will shove that tuffet where the sun don’t shine.

Me: This is getting absurd. I know I’ve been working late, I know I’m tired, but I am sitting here talking with a spider. Can you just leave please? You are starting to bug me.

Spider: I am a spider biatch, not a bug, so don’t be dissin’ my

Me: Look Anansi, unless you want a palp full of curds and whey, I suggest you hightail your you hairy…

Spider: Mary Jane you best listen up cause I ain’t gonna say this but once. This here is my turf now, ya here?

Me: I’m sorry did you just say..

Spider: I SAID, move your sorry ass 4 eyed face outta here ‘fore I put the bite on you!

Me: Don’t get your web in a bunch you 8 legged freak. I’m serious, just buzz off. (Blows in his general direction)

Spider: Oh Hell No! (Charges boldly toward innocent redhead. Redhead leaps up from desk)

Me: OH my God, what the hell!

Spider: That’s right, run from me. Run like a little biatch cause I’m the mac daddy long legs.

Me: Okay, look. This is retarded. Just leave. This is a serious trespassing offence, one that I don’t have time for.

Spider: Then why you letting the silk master 1/1,000 of your size get you up out of your seat huh?

Me: Look itsy bitsy, don’t make me wash you out! You make a good point, I’m bigger than you and if need be I can exert force.

Spider: blah blah blah. BOO! (Charges off desk and makes a b-line for redhead)

Me: Okay THAT’S it. You get the cup. Don’t move fucker! (Stomps on ground in front of spider, silence. There is a momentary standoff. Redhead sneaks backwards not losing eyesssssssss contact, grabs cup form cabinet)

Spider: What you uh, what you uh got there muffy?

Me: This is your cell, your ass is about to be incarcerated. I have had it with the muther fucking spiders, with the mother fuckin attitudes.

Spider: well shiiiiit. You don’t have to go all Orkin on my ass.

Me: This is your last chance at salvation here, If you don’t want your spidery abdomen exterminated a la smoosh, I suggest you get in the cup.

Spider: I’m going to pretend you didn’t just take that tone with me.

Me: I beg your pardon. You object to my TONE?

Spider: Well as a matter of fact yes. It seemed unnecessarily abrasive and to be honest extreme given the discrepancy in size here. I mean let’s be logical here, can I really be that big of a threat?

Me: What you have 8 personalities to go with your legs and eyes?

Spider: Lovely attempt at humor there, valiant, but you know, schitophrenia is a disease that effects the lives of thousands of humans, though I know of no documented arachnid cases.

Me: You’ve been frontin’ this whole time?

Spider: Well, if you must know. Yes.

Me: Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.

Spider: Sir Walter Scott. Nice. You know Virginia Wolfe ( no relation to the wolf spider) said that “fiction is like a spider's web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners. Often the attachment is scarcely perceptible” Nice use of imagery there. But back to your most recent inquiry, yes, I did take on a more, shall we say, threatening persona to achieve my ultimate objective which was, well, I’m a bit abashed to admit, a kiss.

ME: A…kiss.

Spider: Yes. Is that so very hard to believe? Can’t a spider have a soft intereior beneath the tough exoskeleton? I am an invertebrate, I have no spine?

Me: Two seconds ago you were churlish, not to mention exceedingly uncouth, insisting on committing repeated grammatical violations, including putting three syllables to the word bitch, which I find particularly abhorrent and now you are quoting Scott, and Wolfe. You expect me to believe that you just wanted a little smooch?

Spider: Verily. It’s the truth. You see actually, as you may well be aware, the male spider spends most if its life (1-20 years depending on species) waiting to mate and ten die or be eaten. It‘s a sad, sad plight.. I was l just looking for a little romance. Shakespeare once said…

Me: Don’t even.

Spider: Don’t be hating dear.

Me: How is it that you, who clearly can handle language so well, you , who now demonstrates how literate and so well versed you are thought that abusive urban gagster slang was the way to get some lovin, from mind you a different SPIECES?

Spider: Isn’t that what the girls like?

Me: NO. No it’s not. Not this girl anyway. Sorry to disappoint you.

Spider: Well then. Could I trouble you for kiss. Please.

Me: No.

Spider: I said please.

Me: Uh, no, now please go, you’ve said enough.

Spider: I promise no tongue.

Me: You don’t even HAVE a tongue

Spider: Then you know I will keep my promise don’t you. How’s about it love?

Me: Right. OUT! (Scoops spider in cup, chucks spider out in hall, closes door.)

Spider: And by the by, just for your information, it’s Incy Wincy, not itsy bitsy.