Part 20: While You Were Out...

"...not like I was doing it behind your back or anything."

"Marvin, you sent me out for dried insects. And not just any dried insects, either."

"I know. I'm sorry. I just had a craving. I wouldn't have asked if I'd known it was going to lead to that."

"You wrote an entire chapter while I was out!"

"I wouldn't say 'chapter' exactly. It was more of an essay."

"An essay about sexual practices!"

"More about courting spiders, actually, but I can see where it might have appeared a bit ambiguous, at least from a human perspective."

"It certainly did. Really, Marvin, I don't mind your contributions from time to time, but..."

"You left, you see, and I got bored in no time. You were gone for hours. What was I going to do? Build another web? So I just hopped on the keyboard and it went from there."

"Don't try to make it sound like you hadn't planned it. You knew you were going to write from the beginning, before you sent me on an errand."

"I didn't! It was totally unexpected, I..."

"Marvin! Stop, please. You told the readers why you sent me out."

"Yes, but I told them..."

"I've read it. I know what you said."

"Oh."

"Yes, so please just stop making up stories. If you want to write, that's fine. Just check with me first,  please."

"It's not as much fun if I check with you."

"No, it isn't, is it?"

"I just said it wasn't. Besides, sometimes if I do things without your consent, I might come up with something you hadn't thought of."

"Well, you certainly did with the arachnid procreation. And you've had other great ideas I didn't initially accept. Like the time..."

"Anyway, we can talk about this later. You should start writing another entry."

"Who says I haven't started already?"

"You did?"

"I did."

"So, our little chat..."

"Yes. And I did it on purpose."

"Uhm, so can you erase any of that?"

"Don't think so."

"Oh well. I guess I'll be quiet from now on, then."


Since their walk, Phil had been a bit moody. Every time Marvin called Phil's attention to it, Phil replied with something along the lines of "I'm just tired." 

Jill continued to call, and the conversations varied. Sometimes Phil sounded chipper, others upset, and others apologetic. Occasionally, he even sounded defensive. However, no matter what the mood during the call, he always hung up and got sulky. And when Jill came over, it was worse. She seemed to accept Marvin well enough. It was Phil she had a problem with. He began to regret ever having invited her back into his life.

Marvin apologized for having had anything to do with it. Phil told him not to worry, but that maybe he just needed a major change in his life. Maybe, he thought, they should get serious about finding another place to live.

So Phil and Marvin started house hunting. Phil had asked Marvin to start searching the want ads in the papers, to see if there was anything interesting out there and to stir up some ideas. In the mean time, Phil would make some calls and visit a few real estate agencies.

Marvin couldn't understand what was so complicated about finding a new place to live. Any place with a roof could be a home if you put some imagination into it. He had even built homes where there was no roof, though those never lasted as long. Even so, he had seen enough human habitats to know that some people needed something a little more solid to live in.

Still, looking in the newspapers couldn't be that difficult, and it would be fun to find some advertisements. The only problem was that there was no newspaper in the house. Marvin thought hard, and an idea came to him. The Goodwins next door had all sorts of newspapers in their garage, all tied in bales and stacked against one wall. Those newspapers, or at least some of them, had to have classified sections.

So Marvin crawled next door - which took him a while, although perhaps not as long as you might expect - and climbed to the top of the stack nearest the garage door. There he started looking through the newspaper on the top of the pile. 

It was tough going. The newspapers were tied tightly, forming big squarish parcels, and Marvin had to squeeze his way between the pages. Once inside, if he found himself in the wrong section of the paper, he had to crawl back out and try slipping in again a few pages down.

As soon as he found the classifieds, he found an appropriate ad. The description was short but it sounded enticing. For rent, furnished. Then he found another, and then another. For sale. Three-bedrooms. Recently remodeled. New Plumbing. Above-ground swimming pool. Town-house complex. 120 units. There was a lot out there. Phil would like these.

He ripped them out one by one as well as he could in the cramped space, pulled them outside the newspaper, and dragged them up on top of the pile. Then he sat rolling them neatly so that each ripped square of paper took on the appearance of a miniature papyrus scroll, an impression further enhanced by the old, yellowing paper.

When he finished, he crawled back into the newspaper and found a few more ads. He continued in this way until he had collected and rolled around three dozen ads. Then he made a hoop of webbing and looped it around the tiny scrolls, securing them in a bundle and returning proudly to Phil's place, the bundle dragging behind him.

By the time Phil got back home, Marvin had unrolled all the ads and organized them neatly on the table for Phil's perusal. Marvin waved as Phil walked in the door, looking a little tired. Phil came toward the table smiling, but his face slackened somewhat when he saw the presentation. Marvin suddenly felt anxious.

"Hi. How did it go with the real estate agents?"

"Not bad. I may work with one of them, but I'm still not sure. I have to think about it." His eyebrows came a little closer together, creating a wrinkle between them. "What's this?" He scanned the rough squares of text on the table.

"Advertisements. For houses. Some for sale, and some for rent."

"Yes. I see that." Phil picked one up, examining it more closely. He sniffed at it.

"What's the matter? You don't like them?" Marvin looked up hoping for a sign from Phil.

"Well, yes" said Phil, glancing at Marvin, who reminded him of a child showing his exam grades to his father. "It looks like a varied selection." Phil didn't want to offend Marvin, and he considered the best way to broach the subject. Finally, he said "They smell a bit like mildew. Where did you find them?"

"In the newspapers, like you said," Marvin replied.

"Yes, but what newspapers?"

"The ones in the Goodwins' garage."

Phil sighed. "Okay."

"They have a lot more," Marvin said, "and I can go get more if you don't think there are enough here. They have so many newspapers. You can find all the ads you need, right next door."

"Sure, but you realize," he said, picking up another of the crude cutouts, "that this one, for example, comes from a 1972 newspaper?"

" What's wrong with it? You don't like it because it smells like mildew? The price on that one looked hard to beat. And the print hasn't faded. You can still read the advertisements, can't you? Look at some of these. Solid wood garage doors. Isn't that great?"

"Yes, they're wonderful. But advertisements like this aren't current. I can't just call a number on an ad that was placed in 1972."

"But we could go see the places anyway, just to get ideas."

"I suppose so. But that's a lot of time investment for something I'm not going to be able to buy or rent anyway. I'm sure all of these are rented or sold."

"But just to get ideas..."

"And maybe some of them aren't even there anymore."

"Okay. Sorry." Marvin looked away at nothing in particular. "I didn't mean to waste your time."

"Don't be like that, Marvin. You had a great idea."

"Yeah, I see that from your enthusiasm."

Phil felt terrible. Maybe it wasn't what Phil had expected Marvin to do, but he had to admit the ads were entertaining. Colorful textured wallpaper. He laughed.

"You think it's funny? I didn't know what else I could do. You took the newspaper with you when you left. I didn't know where to look for ads while you were gone. And you said 'get some ideas' so I got some." Marvin looked like he might cry.

Phil's expression had changed as well, but for the better. He smiled warmly at Marvin.

"You know what, Marvin? I think you're right and you had a great idea. I didn't have a very nice time with the real estate agents, and I just left them tenser than I was when I left here."

"Why?"

"Because, my little fuzzball, moving is not fun."

Marvin thought for a moment. "But it can be if you make it fun. Or at least if you try to relax and let yourself fantasize a little."

"And that's exactly where I think you're right. Let's look these over and see what tickles our fancy. Maybe we'll feel inspired. Here, this looks good. For rent. Two bedroom. Full bathroom with jacuzzi/hot tub. Would you like a hot tub?"

Marvin crawled over to another ad. "I have Two floor apartment, double garage space."

"I only own one car," Phil replied.

"You might have visitors," Marvin countered.

 "Ample living room. High ceilings. So we can hang the chandelier. All we need to do is buy one."

"How about this one? Million dollar views."

"I'm not sure I could afford that. Keep looking."

Part 19: Let's Talk About Sex

Dear Faithful Readers,

I have sent Phil on an errand so that I can write to you all in private. He's supposed to be bringing me back some dried insects for a wall mount. I wouldn't usually go for such things - I don't believe in wasting food - but they are certainly aesthetically appealing, and I know it will take him a while to find them. With any luck, by the time he gets back I will have finished this note.

To be honest, I was a bit worried about his reaction. Once I have posted it I don't expect he'll make too much of a fuss. However, I know he's really enjoying the blog writing and I think it's helping him to exorcise a few demons, so I certainly don't want to cramp his style. After all, I had to do an awful lot of coaxing just to get him to write the story for me in the first place. And despite his initial reticence about sharing his personal life, he has been quite forthcoming.

I do like my touch sensitive keyboard, though, and I relish any opportunity to use it. So today it's my turn again. Besides, sometimes I have things to contribute, too.

For example, that whole story with Phil and Jill reminded me of how little I understand human relationships. That thing about the museums was just one aspect of social interaction that I don't get. But there are others.

Take the sex thing, for instance. I don't understand the importance people place on it, nor do I comprehend the controversy surrounding it.

I see the point in making baby spiders, but why else would you have sex?

First of all, sex is dangerous and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. If you don't do it right, terrible things can happen. You have to approach your partner really carefully and communicate with very clear signals, or you risk a rebuke, or worse. You have to make your intentions clear, and then you have to make sure that they want what you want. You have to dance for them. You have to caress them to keep them calm so they don't attack you. All these complicated rituals when all you want to do is offer a little romance and the chance for a family.

And if you're not careful, you could get eaten.

I know I told Phil that spiders didn't eat each other and that the whole thing was a myth. Well, it's not entirely a myth. Many of our females do in fact try to eat us after sex. Nevertheless, it's nothing personal on their parts. Usually they're just hungry.

You might ask "Why do you do it, then?" Well, the answer is simple and somewhat embarrassing. When they're in the mood, they smell really nice. It makes us guys crazy. What can I say? That's just the way we're made.

Still, that doesn't mean that most of us choose to be a post-coitus snack. Most of us run. Some of us are simply faster than others. So when Phil said 'I suppose it depends on your mood,' he was almost right. The truth is that it mostly depends on your speed.

So I don't understand why human beings place so much importance on sex. You can resist these primal animal urges that drive us to such unsafe animal acts, can't you? I mean, people are smarter than us arachnids, right?

I understand monogamy even less. As you must see, our females are fiercely independent and, well, it's hard to see the point of staying faithful to someone who could turn you into an entrée if the mood hit her.

You might think that sounds sexist, but that's another human being thing. In our case, it's not sexist at all. It's self preservation. Many of my cousins only had one chance at sex because they opted for a little pillow talk and were eaten before they could get away. So they didn't really get a chance to be unfaithful, but I can't say that they wouldn't have been if they had lived a little longer.

In my case I was lucky. I suppose you could say I'm the one that got away. (But not the only one, of course.)

I must confess that I have only ever had one mate. She didn't eat me, so I was there to help her raise the kids, and we're still in touch today. I'll probably have Phil tell you more about that at some point in the future. For now, all you get is a taste.

Speaking of which, as much as she and I love each other, she probably would've eaten me after sex if I hadn't done my business and gotten myself off that web as fast as my hairy legs would take me. I've never asked her outright, but I know my species. And thus I also know it wouldn't have been personal. She feels the same way about monogamy as I do, obviously. What's the point? We both know that passion is a fleeting thing. There are so many arthropods and so little time. By the way, she has never discussed any other lovers (or any snacks that she was on a first name basis with), so if there were any, I'm happier not knowing.

People also have these issues with sexuality. I don't understand why. Unless you're in the business of making kids, what does it matter who you couple with? Male spiders, female spiders, they're all the same if it's not about having offspring. If they smell nice and that drives you crazy, then enjoy. Just one warning: don't let them eat you. A hungry partner is dangerous, regardless of his or her sex.

Finally, regarding human beings, the biggest problem I see with their relationships has little to do with monogamy or even sexuailty, although the concepts often overlap. It's the domestic issue. The sharing of space. Some people just don't live well together, no matter how they feel about each other, no matter what they do together or separately, no matter how they feel about sex. They just don't adapt well to a shared space.

Phil and Jill always seemed to infringe on each other's territories when they lived together, at least from what I can gather from Phil's stories. It would have been so much easier if they could have built two separate webs near each other. Then they could visit each other as often as they liked and still have their own homes. They could have each arranged their threads however they wanted to. They could have visited each other's webs and admired each other's tastes and still had their respective spaces. They could each have had alone time.

Don't human beings do that? I'll have to ask Phil.

Please don't think I'm completely stupid. I know people don't spin webs. That's not what I meant.

Anyway, I'm afraid I've been rambling. Besides, I hear someone at the door. I hope I haven't bored you. Obviously Phil can't post a picture today because he doesn't know I've been writing this.

Until next time,

Marvin A. Spyder


"Marvin, I'm home."

"(Whew. Just in time.) Hey there! I'm in here."

"You have no idea how hard it is to find dried insects in this town...."

Part 18: Walking Down Memory Lane

So our life went on and the months passed. Marvin built webs, and I attended to the house, the garden, the shopping, and the general day to day upkeep.

I don't mean for that to sound in any way negative. Marvin could lift several times his own weight, as he often reminded me, but that didn't mean much when it came to pushing the lawnmower, painting the house, or washing the car. Those things were my responsibility. Marvin kept me company, and that was more than enough.

Now that time has passed I have a greater sense of perspective, and I see that six months living alone wasn't really that long. At the time, however, it seemed like eternity. 

After Jill moved out, I adapted quite poorly to my newly regained bachelorhood. I had difficulty being alone. The house felt empty. All those things I would have happily done, had she not been around to impede me, seemed to have vanished along with Jill and her possessions. I should have made a note of everything I felt unable to do back when I still felt unable to do it, because with all my life before me and all my free time to be planned and unplanned as I saw fit, I couldn't think of a thing to do. I didn't know where to start. I was bored. I couldn't stand being home alone. Yet most of the time, I didn't want to leave the house.

Being together was hurting us both, yet now that she was gone I couldn't remember how to live without her.

By the time I crushed - sorry, found - Marvin under the night stand, I was as pretty much the mess that Jill made me out to be. After Marvin's arrival, things somehow seemed to run more smoothly and I found a direction again. But for all the time that had passed since then, the ghosts of my time with Jill still drifted through the house from time to time.


Marvin swung lazily from the ceiling lamp. He let out a few feet of thread, letting himself fall toward the living room floor, then pulled himself back up, collecting the thread as he went. Then he dropped down further, stopped, swung in the air currents, and starting climbing back up again. He did this for an hour or so, biding his time and waiting for Phil to get dressed.

Eventually Phil came out of the bedroom wearing a pair of baggy pants and a dress shirt.

"Where are you going all dressed up?"

"I'm not going anywhere. We're going for a walk."

"A walk! Yippie! Where?"

"Just around the neighborhood. Come on."

Marvin could hardly contain himself. He pulled himself up the thread until he was a foot or so above Phil's head, and jumped. He missed the crown of Phil's head by a fair margin and instead landed on his forehead. He lost his footing and began to slip. 

Marvin had to grasp Phil's left eyebrow to keep from sliding all the way down his face and onto the floor. Phil closed his right eye so as to better focus with the left.

"Are you having fun?"

"You don't expect me to say 'no,' do you?"

Having regained his equilibrium, Marvin climbed back up Phil's forehead and found a place to stand on the top of Phil's head about an inch in front of the coronal suture. Phil wasn't bald, but his hair had receded enough for Marvin to be able to stand unhindered an inch or two behind where a younger man's hairline would be. This fairly level landscape was perfect for Marvin, as it kept him away from the slope of Phil's forehead. It was like standing at the top of a rolling hill, although the texture was a bit fleshier.

Phil grabbed a light jacket and a moment later they were out the door.

"Ready?" Phil asked.

"Ready," answered Marvin.

"Where would you like to go?" Phil rolled his eyes upward as he said this. He couldn't see Marvin. Nevertheless, he knew he was there because whenever Marvin spoke Phil could feel a ticklish vibration. He had to remind himself not to scratch it.

"Uhm, let's see.... I'd love to go around the block."

"Okay. I can do that. Let's go around the block."

Phil started down the street. As he walked, he told Marvin about the neighbors and pointed out landmarks that he thought Marvin might appreciate. Marvin tried to follow everything that Phil told him, and he learned a lot on this trip.

He learned that the next-door neighbors were named the Goodwins and that their dog's name was Ralph and that Ralph liked to dig holes by the fence that separated their yards and that although this annoyed Phil he didn't want to say anything because the Goodwins were old and basically good people and he felt guilty bothering them with complaints about their dog.

Every house had a front yard, and every yard had a tree. Some even had two or three.

Phil told Marvin about the family that lived across the street who had a kid who used to invite other kids in the neighborhood over to play but then asked them for money to play with his toys. Marvin was astounded.

"Did the other kids pay?"

"Of course. He was only asking for fifty cents. Then some parents found out and the word spread around the neighborhood and now the other parents don't let their kids play at his house anymore."

A little further down the street Phil pointed out a path along a tall row of hedges that served as a barrier between two front yards. He explained that he used to follow that path back behind the houses where a strip of forest had been preserved and where he sometimes went on nature walks. He had seen a huge spider in a web between two trees there. Marvin asked if Phil thought it was still there. Phil explained that that had been years ago.

They passed a house on the left where Phil pointed to a pair of trees. One had crabapples in the late summer, and the other had purple plums. Phil used to stop and talk with the woman who lived there and she always offered him some fruit. She was a widow. Marvin could just make out a dark, stuffy looking living room through the sheers that covered the front bay window.

They walked to the end of the road, and Phil turned left. He pointed out a tree where he had found Mrs. Brown's son one day. Phil had spotted him on his afternoon stroll and he had stopped to ask him what he was doing there. The boy explained that he had run away from home. Phil climbed up and sat in the tree with him for an hour until the boy's grandmother came hobbling down the street looking for him. Marvin asked him why the boy had run away from home.

"I really don't remember, but I know he was very upset."

"Why did he stop here? Why didn't he run away further?"

"He wasn't allowed to go past the end of the block. He thought he might get in trouble."

"Oh." Marvin thought about this.

They rounded the block, heading back up the street behind Phil's house, where the back yards of the houses - on one side of the street anyway - met his own back yard and the back yards of his neighbors. Phil was quiet.

"No stories for this block?"

"No. I've lived here for ten years and I never did get to know the people on this block. I never gave it much thought, and I never had any reason to come down this street."

"Sounds like you had a lot of excitement on your own street."

"Excitement." Yeah, I guess so. Yes, it's been sort of exciting."

Marvin wished he could see Phil's face. Something in his voice sounded almost melancholy.

"Are you okay, Phil?"

"Yes. Just thinking."

"About what?"

"About moving." Phil looked down at his feet as he said this, and Marvin felt the shift.

"Oh. Okay."

Something in Phil's tone stopped Marvin from asking any more questions. He had just gotten to know Phil and the house. Phil's wanting to move from here had never crossed his mind. Why would he want to leave this wonderful place?

Phil spoke again as they turned the corner to head back down Phil's street.

"Let's head home."

"Okay."

"Did you like the walk?"

"Oh, absolutely. I loved it. Can we do it again soon?"

"Sure. Let's go sit on the back porch for awhile. It's a nice day and I'd like to do some reading."

They returned to the house. Phil grabbed his book and headed out to the back deck. Marvin jumped down to Phil's shoulder and then down to the table.

"You can hang out on the table, or explore the back yard, or whatever. I'll be sitting right here. Would you like a lemonade?" Phil settled into a lounge chair and opened his book.

Marvin wasn't sure what to think. Phil seemed fine, but he had made that comment about moving. Marvin tried to keep the conversation light.

"Don't worry about me," Marvin said brightly. "I'll find something to do."

He wandered across the table until he reached the edge. He looked out on the back yard. He wondered how long he would have to explore all it still had to offer. Then he dropped over the side of the table, abseiling past the table top and finally lowering himself down through the endless space between him and the ground.

Part 17: When Trouble Calls

Hello Readers, and welcome once again to -

"Excuse me, Phil?"

"Yes."

"Before you get started, I was wondering..."

I have started, Marvin."

"Oh, poo. I thought I could catch you before you dove into it."

"Well I wouldn't say 'dove into' exactly, but yes, I've already started typing."

"So I didn't interrupt much? How far have you gotten?"

"Seven words."

"Oh, now I'm really sorry. I completely interrupted your flow."

"It's fine."

"So can I ask you a question?"

"I'm waiting patiently."

"How are you getting along with the writing?"

"I already told you. Seven words."

"No, I mean in general. Are you enjoying it?"

"I'm enjoying it."

"Don't look at me like that. It's not like you had gotten very far along."

"Marvin, is this conversation supposed to be going somewhere?"

"How do I know? You're the one writing."

"Not right now, I'm not."

"..."

"..."

"Okay then. So I guess I'll go get into some trouble."

"Enjoy. I'll be done in a while."



(Sorry, Readers. Let's just start over.)



The telephone rang. Phil, who was lying on the sofa, reached behind him to the end table and picked up.

"Hello. Phil's residence. Phil speaking."

"So now you're back to saying that again when you pick up?"

"Hello, Jill." Phil replied, a bit sheepishly. "Yes. I happen to like it. I only stopped using it because we were living together."

"And you started saying 'Phil and Jill's Residence' instead. That was fun for a while."

"Actually, I'm surprised you called."

"Why? I told you I would, when I was ready." A short silence followed, but just as Phil was starting to feel uncomfortable, Jill spoke again. "I was just calling to see if you were any better."

"Better than what?"

"Better than the last time I saw you."

"What was wrong with me?"

"You were a bit distraught."

"Oh, I'm fine. And thank you for making breakfast. I don't remember if I said so."

"Neither do I. And I wasn't referring to breakfast. I mean before that. The whole night before that. You weren't well. You were a nervous wreck." Jill sighed. "I just wanted to see if you were back on track."

"I assure you I'm fine."

Jill swallowed hard. This wasn't going to be easy. "So how's your little friend?"

"Good." Phil was glad she had chosen to ask. "Really good, thanks. He made a beautiful web in the lamp by the door..."

"Nice."

"...and I really think you'd love it..."

"Surely."

"...and I think he's already caught a couple of flies. Last night a moth flew through it and I was certain that he was going to have to rebuild the whole thing, but he's a resourceful little fellow. He fixed it, just like with the flies. You should've seen him."

"Sorry I missed it."

"He even picked up the loose threads where the web had broken and used them to patch the hole. He had to make new thread, though. It wasn't all patchwork."

"You watched him?"

"He insisted. He was explaining the difference between the sticky threads and the other ones. I forget now what he calls them, and..."

"Phil."

"...he just started spewing out this thread and running around the edge of the tear..."

"Phil?"

"Pulling together the gap until he had some spokes crossing it. The pattern wasn't as nice as the original, but it was somehow still beautiful."

"Phil!"

"What?"

"Just stop a minute. 

What have you been up to all this time? Just watching a spider spin a web?" Her voice stepped up a decibel.

"No, of course not. I have things to do, too."

"Like what sort of things?" she asked accusingly.

"I've been gardening." Phil smiled. He wondered if she could hear it in his voice.

"Have you even left the house?" Jill barked.

"Well, of course!" He was finding her tone somewhat annoying. "Where do you think the garden is, excatly?"

"I mean besides the gardening." she replied snarkily.

"Yes, I've left the house for other reasons, too," Phil snapped. "I've done shopping, and I've run errands." Phil was beginning to resent her line of questioning. "I've also been working. I've been writing some songs..."

"Songs," she spat.

"Yes, songs. I still do that." He had no intention of getting into that discussion again. "Not that I need to justify myself to you. I really don't understand why you're getting on my case. Or where any of this is coming from."

"You called me the other night. I didn't call you, remember."

"You're calling me now." She was really getting to him. "Listen, Jill,you walked out of my life years ago. You said you'd had enough. Remember? You reminded me of as much when I called you the other night."

"Phil, I just..."

"And I'm really sorry I needed you then, but I did, so I called you. And don't think that was easy for me. It took me forever just to decide to pick up the phone. And then waiting for you. And who else would I call. And now..." Phil stopped and took a deep breath, regaining control of his own volume level. "And now I'm thinking that I shouldn't have bothered you in the first place. Who knows? From the looks of things, I should've just called Fred. Except I didn't have his number. Still, it might have been a better idea all around."

The line was silent. They could hear one another's breathing. Then Jill spoke.

"Good. You're right. It's none of my business and I shouldn't have called you today. I was just worried."

That made Phil feel guilty. "You can call me," Phil answered, trying to even out his tone as he spoke. That's not a problem."

"It is if I can't talk to you like a normal person."

She was turning the tables, being the aggressive one and then the victim. Phil recognized this line of attack. But he fell right into it.

"Don't be like that. I was just feeling a little defensive about all the questions."

"All I wanted was to check in on you. I've been worried. And I really don't know what to make of that spider..." she said. Phil could hear the disdain in her voice. The slight was enough to bring Phil back to his senses.

"You know, Jill, you're probably right. I was wrong to contact you. I really thought you'd understand."

"Understand?" She raised her voice again. "How am I supposed to understand? You talk to an insect! One you tried to kill! One you are afraid of!"

"Well, I was, but now..."

"And then you cry over it when it disappears and you call me."

"And he's not an insect." 

"And then you let it sit on the breakfast table."

"I was just being hospitable."

"MY breakfast table!"

"It's not your breakfast table."

"It was my breakfast. I made it."

"He likes breakfast. Besides, you used my food."

"Fine. Have it your way," Jill huffed. "But I'm telling you this is unhealthy."

"Jill, I think this conversation is unhealthy."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

Phil had a moment of intuition.

"Are you jealous, Jill?"

A dial tone.

Phil hung up the receiver, shrugging.

"Who was that?" said a voice from the other end of the sofa.

"Jill."

"Oh. How is she?" Marvin peeked his head out from under the lamp shade.

"Irate."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. She's usually irate." Phil channel surfed, trying to forget the conversation with Jill. A title caught his eye.

"Oh. I see."

"There's a movie on tonight if you want to watch it with me."

"What is it?" Marvin dropped down form his web, landing softly on the table.

"Kingdom of the Spiders."

"Drama?"

"No. Sci-Fi. Or horror. It sort of depends how you look at it."

"Do the people kill spiders?" Marvin asked, crawling over to Phil's end.

"Yeah." 

"Do they kill a lot of spiders?"

"Probably. But I imagine the spiders kill a lot of people, too." Phil changed the position of his head to give Marvin room to sit on the pillow.

"So it's a war movie?"

"Well that depends on how you look at it."

"But do the spiders all get killed at the end?"

"I really don't remember. Maybe. The good guys win, I imagine."

"The spiders?"

"No, the people." Phil winced slightly. Marvin smiled.

"I guess that depends how you look at it."

Part 16: The Art of Web Making

Marvin spent the better part of the rest of the day working on his web. Normally it would only have taken him twenty minutes to throw something together, or half an hour if he was feeling adventurous. He knew quite a few web shapes and he liked to try new things. Today, however, was not about creativity. Marvin was simply feeling indecisive.

He had already tried a sheet web, but it was a clumsy thing and it covered the whole bottom of the shade. It was perfect for a lamp like this, though, because if a moth or fly flew in toward the bulb it would fall right into the web. Still, it was almost like a, well, like a sheet, and he was pretty sure Phil wouldn't go for it, so he simply tore down most of it and ate what he could. Which was actually quite a bit, though it left him feeling a bit full. He wanted to be sure he would have room for dinner, so that meant starting work on another web. He hung upside down and let out some thread, lowering himself away from the shade so that he could look up and around him. From here he admired the lamp's contours and thought.

Under ordinary circumstances, he built his web the way he wanted, in spite of the other inhabitants of the house. This time things were different. Phil would know Marvin was making webs, and therefore be aware of them, so Marvin wanted them to be as unobjectionable as possible.

Not that he had ever been inconsiderate in his household constructions. He had a clear vision regarding his webwork. His webs were a balance of ingenuity, practicality, creativity, and machination. He liked using the objects available; bookshelves were great spaces to work with. He liked the area between a desk and a wall, especially if there were cords and cables; there he could save on infrastructure and just string along some viscid threads without complicating the whole thing or covering a large surface. He liked to give his webs a personal touch, and he would sometimes decorate them with bits of pieces of things he found. But he was always careful about where he built. He didn't want his work to be easily discovered by people. That usually brought about a precipitous and rather unceremonious dismantling of the web, ruining a lot of hard work in a matter of seconds.

Most of the time he would simply make an old-fashioned spiral orb web and hope that it wouldn't be discovered until he could catch something. Frequently catching something would destroy the web. That was fine. That was it's purpose after all. And if it was discovered before that, there was still hope.

Orb webs actually worked well in houses because they tended to draw admiration from passers-by and therefore stood a better chance of lasting, whereas a space-web was horribly complex and took a while to put together properly. And because space-webs were all lumpy and concentrated, people never seemed to appreciate them for what they were, lumping them in the category of cobwebs. Marvin knew it was more complex than that. He knew cobwebs were more than just old abandoned webs. These were intricate creations, and some of them weren't abandoned at all, despite the concensus of most homeowners.

Marvin thought that the alternative name, tangle web, was more apt and might even have made people consider looking at it a bit more closely to appreciate the art involved. He doubted that would happen in the near future, though.

Marvin twirled around on his thread, watching the living room spin around him. Then he brought himself to a stop and looked around again.

The fact was that space-webs, even small ones, needed to be constructed somwhere they would last for a while: abandoned buildings, cellars, or - if they were to survive the comings and goings of people - high, remote corners where people wouldn't see them easily. Human beings had a neurotic habit of obliterating the entire web with a quick sweep of a broom or a dust cloth whenever it suddenly occurred to them to do any serious housecleaning.

Even Phil had ruined a fair number of perfectly functional cobwebs in these last few months, although that was before Marvin had officially introduced himself. Maybe now things would be different.

Anyway, cobwebs on the lamp were definitely out of the question, at least until he could talk it over with Phil. The ceiling lamp was still a possibility, though. He gazed up at it as he swung from his thread.

He climbed up into the table lamp, found a spoke of the shade holder that led right up to the top of the shade, and released his bridge thread from there. The bridge thread waved above the bulb and quickly attached itself to the opposite side of the shade. Marvin moved across the thread, pulling it tighter and reinforcing it with more silk.

Yes, for a first public showing, this needed to be classic. The orb web was the way to go on this one.

Marvin never understood this practice of housecleaning. He saw the utility in keeping the place dust-free. It was certainly better than those dust bunnies that accumulated in some people's houses. Those things he found frightening. But cleaning was overrated. Besides, if things got too dirty you could simply live life off the ground. 

Humans weren't very good at that sort of life, Marvin knew from experience. Even when they built these huge high buildings it seemed like they always walked on flat horizontal ground. You never saw people hanging from the walls or the ceiling. Well, not very often, anyway.

As his thoughts drifted, he spun and spun. First the anchors, then the radii, then the spirals, saving the sticky capture spiral for the end.

Before long, and almost without realizing it, he had finished. He let out a line and dropped down so he could get contemplate his work from another perspective.

It was pretty standard as webs went, yet he was surprised at how easily it had come. He would never have gone so far as to call it artistic expression, as it wasn't that at all. It had been much more spontaneous. He had simply let himself go.

After an entire afternoon of banging his head against the lampshade, he had finally done what he had needed to do the entire time, in little or no time at all.

"Hey, nice spiral," a voice from behind him said. Marvin looked over his shoulder. Phil was crouched behind him, looking up into the lampshade.

"Glad you like it. I was afraid it might be unwelcome." Marvin wrinkled his brow and looked up at Phil. "How's your gardening going?"

"Unwelcome? No, it's nice. I love that sort of web," answered Phil. "You planning to catch anything with it?"

"Depends on weather anything flies by. It's built for catching, if that's what you mean."

"I don't know what I mean. I was just trying to make conversation. It's not often I discuss webs, and less often with their creators." Phil scanned the web, carefully examining the structural details.

"And the garden?" Marvin reiterated.

"I pruned the peonies."

"Nice. I saw those the other day. Pretty spectacular."

"Thanks. I planted them for Jill years ago."

"Nice choice."

"Thanks. It took me forever to decide on what to get at the nursery. I spent the whole day there, choosing, changing my mind, changing my mind again. Finally, I gave up. On the way out I saw these strange-looking roots - I thought they were decorative wood things for a garden - and thought to ask one of the employees what they were. I bought them and planted them, and they grew. And they come back every year. And they're gorgeous."

"So you just let yourself go and randomly ended up picking one of the most beautiful flowers in the place?"

"I guess so. But don't think that sort of decision making works all the time."

Marvin shrugged.

"Sometimes it does."

Part 15: Home Alone

Hello again, dear readers. It would seem that we left our story in a fairly stable position. Marvin was home and apparently had been accepted by all concerned. I was no longer worried sick and I could return to my house and garden work. Fred was friendly and above all hungry. Jill was surprisingly cool-headed and jovial as she made breakfast for four. She seemed almost obsequious, and frankly I was surprised. She played the part of the perfect housewife, or maid, and treated Marvin as if he were just another guest. She acted as if everything were normal. No, worse. She acted as if everything were perfect. It was unnerving. 

"Are you going to get back to the story, then?"

"I'm leading into it."

"Okay. Sorry then."



Considering the circumstances, everything seemed to have gone quite smoothly. Conversation, breakfast, laughter. Jill had even given him a kiss on the cheek before she left.

Fred's visit was somewhat strange, but Phil couldn't say it was entirely unexpected. He hardly knew the man and most of what he did know about him came from stories around town. This in itself wouldn't have been strange at all. In most towns people always have some story to connect to those familiar faces you see around all the time, those people you recognize and frequently encounter but never actually speak to. 

The thing that was different with Fred is that he spoke to you. When Phil was in his teens, he used to visit his grandparents who lived on the north side, and sometimes he would even stay the weekend. Fred was a regular part of those weekends, especially in summer. Maybe it was the nice weather, or maybe it was just that Phil spent more time outside, but Phil remembered seeing Fred striding down the street and sometimes stopping to talk with neighbors. 

Fred used to stop to talk with Phil's grandfather quite a bit, seeking him out in the back yard when he was working in the garden, or strolling up the front path when he was trimming the roses. They seemed to talk about plants for the most part, and it seemed that Fred asked a lot of questions and Phil's grandfather limited most of his conversation to giving short two- or three-word answers. Sometimes, when Phil's grandfather was elsewhere, Fred would stop to talk to Phil, too. Thinking back now, Phil couldn't recall exactly what they talked about.

Phil's grandmother had told him back then, in that conspiratorial way that elderly grandparents speak to teenagers, to be nice to Fred because he didn't have a family and was alone. She also told him not to pry or ask too many questions. Maybe that was part of the reason Phil couldn't actually remember the conversations. Maybe they didn't really talk about anything important at all.

Phil stood in the doorway a few minutes more, watching as Fred made his way up the street, taking those long, machine-like strides and swinging his arms in long straight arcs that reminded Phil of clockwork pendulums. Fred turned down the main road, heading in the same direction as Jill's car when it disappeared from view. Then he too was gone.

Phil closed the door and walked back through the living room.

Spotting the lamp on the end table, Marvin jumped from Phil's shoulder to an arm of the sofa. He crawled over to that lamp and up the base to the shade holder. The equidistant spokes were an ideal place to start work on a web. The lamplight was warm. He crawled along a spoke to the bottom edge of the lampshade and launched a thread into the air, waiting for it to catch somewhere. The silky line rippled as it went, moving with the warm air currents.

As Marvin waited, he scanned the room for other potential architectural projects. There was an overhead lamp hanging from some sort of chain, right in the middle of the living room. It was definitely another potential site. That one would have to wait for later, though.

Phil walked into the kitchen, looking for something to busy himself. They had finished cleaning up after breakfast, and now he almost wished they hadn't. 

He walked back out onto the porch. The sun was higher in the sky now, but it wasn't a particularly hot day. Maybe he should settle into some serious yard work. Jill always chastised him for making all these grandiose plans for the yard and then never seriously doing anything about it. Jill would have harassed him until he got to work on the yard.

Jill.

Phil looked over to the above-ground pool, which was decidedly worse for wear after ten years. He could repair that, too. It was just a little outside rust. And the lining needed a good cleaning. The structure was still sound, though. "All I need to do is fix those small rust patches, tighten up the ladder, and give the bottom of the pool a good scrubbing." 

He stopped himself. Jill used to tell him that if he made all his plans out loud, he'd never do it. Actions speak louder than words.

Jill.

He wondered again about her reaction. So normal. Over gin tonics she had said she believed him about Marvin, but even then Phil had his doubts that she had really believed him. And although it hadn't seemed like such a big issue to Phil to share his own breakfast with Marvin, the whole concept really hit home with others present. The four of them had all been so natural at the table.

Maybe that was just the effect Marvin had on people.

Phil looked down at the table and saw an empty coffee cup which didn't appear to have been used. It was sitting on a folded piece of paper.

Phil,

Don't think we've finished talking. You're lucky Fred was there or I would have ripped your head off. You had me really worried, and I stayed over because I was actually afraid of what you might do to yourself. It was bad enough I had to listen to the whole spider story, but on top of it I come to find out that what you were telling me was true?! 

You'd better thank your lucky stars that you had eggs in the house, or it might have gotten ugly.

This conversation is far from over.

DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT CALLING ME. I will call you when I have had time to process. And be careful where you let that insect crawl around. It might have diseases.

Not that I care. If you get bitten and die, don't come crying for help.

I'll be in touch soon.

Jill

That was more like Jill. He folded the note and slipped into the back pocket of his trousers.

Phil noticed that Marvin was no longer sitting on his shoulder. He walked back through the house, calling out to him.

"Marvin? Where did you get off to now?"

"Here," came a small voice from the lamp.

"Ugh, cobwebs," said Phil as he swiped away the line that Marvin had left to drift in the air.

"Hey! Why did you do that?" Marvin said, poking his head out from under the lampshade.

"It was a..."

"It was my bridge thread."

"Your what?"

"My bridge thread. I need it to get started on a web."

"Oh, sorry. I thought it was a cobweb."

"Well it wasn't."

"You're not planning on covering the whole house in that, are you?"

"How much do you think I eat, anyway?"

"I honestly have no idea."

"Well, if webs are an issue, I can downsize without too much difficulty."

"Meaning?"

"I can be discreet."

"Okay."

Marvin prepared to launch another thread and noticed that Phil was still staring at him.

"Phil? Don't you have some yard work to do?"