Dear Phillip,
I tried calling you a number of times over last weekend, but I was having
considerable difficulty pressing the keys and was unable to get through.
Please return my android. I can't use this phone properly and you aren't on
speed dial. Apart from the obvious frustration it causes, the situation also
makes me feel somehow inadequate.
The intention of my aborted telephone call was to ask you what the hell is going on
with the blog. We had agreed that you were going to write one entry per
week, until my story has been told, or we reach the present, or our readers
get bored. Whichever comes first.
I fear that at this pace, it shall be the latter.
I fear that at this pace, it shall be the latter.
Please don't read into this. I have every confidence in you and I know in
my heart (yes, contrary to what you might think, spiders have hearts, too)
that you made the right choice when you agreed to help me, just as I made
the right choice by choosing you. You are, when all is said and done, my
oldest and dearest (human) friend.
So please get your ass in gear and right the damn blog entry.
Yours,
Marvin
This was on my desk this morning. I am not entirely sure how it got there, but naturally I have my suspicions. So I wish to extend my sincerest apologies to the reader. I have been lax in my duties.
When last I wrote, I had told you that I had found a spider in my bedroom and calmly removed it with a broom from the premises. Unfortunately it had escaped in a pile of dust between the boards of my back porch.
Having successfully evicted the little eight-legged fiend, I became somewhat emboldened by the experience and - closing the door to the porch firmly behind me so as not to let the creature back in - I ran back to the kitchen to grab a flashlight from under the sink. I marched confidently back to the porch door. I was surprised at how much my attitude had changed in such a short space of time. After years of being terrified, I was now ready to put those irrational fears behind me.
I knelt down on the porch and flicked on the flashlight, shining the beam between the slats. Eventually I found what I was looking for.
I almost felt sorry for it. "Poor little thing."
"I'm not a thing," said a tiny voice. Maybe it was my conscience. "Do you think you could give me a hand here?" said the voice again.
"Okay. Now I'm talking to myself," I said aloud.
"That may very well be the case, but I'm also talking to you." I jumped back and almost fell off the porch. A splinter slid smoothly through the fabric of my jeans and found a home in my left butt cheek. Just my luck.
Feeling a bit asinine, I looked left and right, scanning the neighboring yards, making sure nobody was watching me. The Goodmans' dog had stopped her frantic digging in the corner or their lawn and was looking at me inquisitively. Apart from that, it appeared I was not being observed.
"Go back to your digging, Princess." The dog cocked its head at me then abruptly turned, catching some interesting scent in the air. A moment later she was off in another part of the yard.
I must have dropped the flashlight. I picked it up and aimed it again at the spot where the spider had been. It was still there, slightly crumpled but apparently quite lucid.
"I'm sorry, but were you just speaking to me?" I asked, addressing the crack between the two-by-fours and praying that this conversation was not being recorded by some nosy neighborhood kid.
"Of course. Who did you think it was, the dog? I mean, really." The sound certainly seemed to be coming from the spider. "I should probably introduce myself. My name's Marvin."
Keeping my flashlight trained on the spot, I clearly saw the spider's mouth move.
"Okay, so what is it you want from me?"
"Well, for starters, it'd be great if you could help me out of here. Can't you see the state I'm in? And from where I'm sitting -if you can call this 'sitting'- I'd say you're pretty much responsible for my current predicament."
"Okay. I can accept that. But what exactly do you want me to do?" I was trying very hard not to focus on the fact that I was conversing with an arthropod.
"I'm going to walk you through this. Get that broom you so lovingly smashed me with earlier and bring it here. Shove it... No, on second thought, don't shove it. Gently press it down onto the porch so I can grab onto a bristle or two. Then lift me out of here and bring me inside."
"Bring you inside?"
"Do I stutter?" he replied irritably. "Look, could you please speed up the proceedings? I'd like to get out of here before the sun goes down."
I did as I was told. After all, who was I to argue with a talking spider? I grabbed the broom, pressed a corner of it firmly into the wood slats, and waited.
"Okay. Up we go."
I lifted the broom, much more carefully this time than in the bedroom. At first I didn't see the spider at all. Then I saw him, hanging from the broom by a gossamer thread, about an inch after the last bristles had cleared the surface of the porch.
"Have you got pockets in that shirt?" he asked me, in a much kinder tone than he had used only a moment before.
I checked. "Yeah. One breast pocket." I was wearing a short sleeved, green cotton pullover. "I suppose I know why you're asking."
"It does look quite cozy." He smiled.
Somewhat incredulous of my own actions, I placed my hand under him. He dropped from the thread into my palm, and I moved my fingertips to the edge of the pocket so that he could crawl inside.
"You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Say, I know we got off to a bad start, but I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
And thus began my friendship with Marvin.
"Are you happy now that you got to write yourself into the story?"
"How exactly am I going to tell this story without writing myself into it?"
"Well, you could write about all my adventures, Phillip."
"You know I hate it when you call me Phillip. Please, just Phil. Besides, your adventure really starts with me, doesn't it?"
"I suppose so. It's just that I hate that incident with the broom."
"I've apologized for that so many times now, I've lost track. You're not going to make me feel guilty again, are you?"
"I suppose not. Sorry. It's just one of those memories. It's still painful. I was only trying to be friendly, and you..."
"Stop it, Marvin."
"Sorry."
When last I wrote, I had told you that I had found a spider in my bedroom and calmly removed it with a broom from the premises. Unfortunately it had escaped in a pile of dust between the boards of my back porch.
Having successfully evicted the little eight-legged fiend, I became somewhat emboldened by the experience and - closing the door to the porch firmly behind me so as not to let the creature back in - I ran back to the kitchen to grab a flashlight from under the sink. I marched confidently back to the porch door. I was surprised at how much my attitude had changed in such a short space of time. After years of being terrified, I was now ready to put those irrational fears behind me.
I knelt down on the porch and flicked on the flashlight, shining the beam between the slats. Eventually I found what I was looking for.
I almost felt sorry for it. "Poor little thing."
"I'm not a thing," said a tiny voice. Maybe it was my conscience. "Do you think you could give me a hand here?" said the voice again.
"Okay. Now I'm talking to myself," I said aloud.
"That may very well be the case, but I'm also talking to you." I jumped back and almost fell off the porch. A splinter slid smoothly through the fabric of my jeans and found a home in my left butt cheek. Just my luck.
Feeling a bit asinine, I looked left and right, scanning the neighboring yards, making sure nobody was watching me. The Goodmans' dog had stopped her frantic digging in the corner or their lawn and was looking at me inquisitively. Apart from that, it appeared I was not being observed.
"Go back to your digging, Princess." The dog cocked its head at me then abruptly turned, catching some interesting scent in the air. A moment later she was off in another part of the yard.
I must have dropped the flashlight. I picked it up and aimed it again at the spot where the spider had been. It was still there, slightly crumpled but apparently quite lucid.
"I'm sorry, but were you just speaking to me?" I asked, addressing the crack between the two-by-fours and praying that this conversation was not being recorded by some nosy neighborhood kid.
"Of course. Who did you think it was, the dog? I mean, really." The sound certainly seemed to be coming from the spider. "I should probably introduce myself. My name's Marvin."
Keeping my flashlight trained on the spot, I clearly saw the spider's mouth move.
"Okay, so what is it you want from me?"
"Well, for starters, it'd be great if you could help me out of here. Can't you see the state I'm in? And from where I'm sitting -if you can call this 'sitting'- I'd say you're pretty much responsible for my current predicament."
"Okay. I can accept that. But what exactly do you want me to do?" I was trying very hard not to focus on the fact that I was conversing with an arthropod.
"I'm going to walk you through this. Get that broom you so lovingly smashed me with earlier and bring it here. Shove it... No, on second thought, don't shove it. Gently press it down onto the porch so I can grab onto a bristle or two. Then lift me out of here and bring me inside."
"Bring you inside?"
"Do I stutter?" he replied irritably. "Look, could you please speed up the proceedings? I'd like to get out of here before the sun goes down."
I did as I was told. After all, who was I to argue with a talking spider? I grabbed the broom, pressed a corner of it firmly into the wood slats, and waited.
"Okay. Up we go."
I lifted the broom, much more carefully this time than in the bedroom. At first I didn't see the spider at all. Then I saw him, hanging from the broom by a gossamer thread, about an inch after the last bristles had cleared the surface of the porch.
"Have you got pockets in that shirt?" he asked me, in a much kinder tone than he had used only a moment before.
I checked. "Yeah. One breast pocket." I was wearing a short sleeved, green cotton pullover. "I suppose I know why you're asking."
"It does look quite cozy." He smiled.
Somewhat incredulous of my own actions, I placed my hand under him. He dropped from the thread into my palm, and I moved my fingertips to the edge of the pocket so that he could crawl inside.
"You have no idea how much I appreciate this. Say, I know we got off to a bad start, but I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
And thus began my friendship with Marvin.
"Are you happy now that you got to write yourself into the story?"
"How exactly am I going to tell this story without writing myself into it?"
"Well, you could write about all my adventures, Phillip."
"You know I hate it when you call me Phillip. Please, just Phil. Besides, your adventure really starts with me, doesn't it?"
"I suppose so. It's just that I hate that incident with the broom."
"I've apologized for that so many times now, I've lost track. You're not going to make me feel guilty again, are you?"
"I suppose not. Sorry. It's just one of those memories. It's still painful. I was only trying to be friendly, and you..."
"Stop it, Marvin."
"Sorry."
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