Part 7: Old Flames

A Note to Our Readers:

This next section is an essential part of the story and is therefore unavoidable. Nevertheless, I feel a certain vulnerability revisiting this particular period of my life in such a public manner. I have chosen to do so for the sake of clarity and continuity and, as has become abundantly clear, because my relationship with Marvin is not only personal but also professional.

In other words, I have sold my personal life to this literary cause, and Marvin is signing the checks.

Also, after the narrative experiment of the last entry, I confirm that it is easier to tell the story if I don't consider myself a major character in it but rather write as if it had all happened to someone else. This doesn't make it any less factual, but it somehow helps me to feel slightly less embarrassed.

Thank you, readers, for your patience during this awkward communication.

Yours truly,

Phil



Phil paced the living room obsessively. He had never felt as helpless as he did at this moment. He was desperate.

And as we all know, desperate times call for desperate measures. Or at the very least, one begets the other.

Phil reached for the phone and picked up the receiver. He paused, steeled himself, and dialed. Holding the receiver to his ear, he chewed on a fingernail and waited.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Hello?"

On the third ring, as she had done for as long as he'd known her.

"Jill?" he squeeked.

"Phil? Is that really you?"

"Jill, you know I wouldn't..."

"Phil. I thought I made it clear that I didn't want you calling me anymore." She didn't sound angry, but Phil got a chill down his spine. When she was cool and calm, she was worse.

"You did, Jill, of course you did. But that was months ago and..."

"And that was exactly the point. I say 'Don't call me anymore' and you don't call me anymore."

"Jill, it's just that I have..." 

"Time is supposed to go by and you're supposed to think 'Gee, it's been months since the last time I called Jill,' and that's how it's supposed to work." He heard a click, then a silence, and finally a long exhale. "Actually, it would work even better if you didn't think about me at all."

"Jill, you're smoking. I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not smoking because you upset me." Even as she said it, he thought he could hear something different in her tone. "I'm smoking because I feel like it. I... I don't need to justify myself to you, Phil."

"I didn't ask you to. And it's not what you think. I haven't been thinking about you. I just have this situation..."

"You haven't?"

"Yes, I really have. I have this situation and I needed..."

"No, I mean you haven't been thinking about me?"

"What? Oh no, of course not. I haven't thought about you in ages," Phil replied. "The reason I was calling..."

"Good."

"...is that I have this situation..."

"I mean, I'm glad."

"...and I... Glad about what? I haven't even told you what the situation is yet."

"No, I mean I'm glad you haven't been thinking of me. That's good."

"Jill, I called because you're the only person I can share this with."

"So in other words," - Jill's voice went up a decibel or two - "the only reason you're calling me is because you need something. I see you're back to your old tricks."

"What tricks? I'm calling you because I think you're the only one who'll understand me," he pleaded. He pressed the receiver harder to his ear. Silence. Exhaling. "Jill?"

"I'm waiting. Let's get it over with."

"It's a little difficult to explain."

"It can't be any more difficult than that time I caught you with the four guys in the jacuzzi."

"They were in my band. It was a creative meeting."

"It certainly was creative."

"It was nothing, Jill! We've had this conversation! Multiple times. You were always the only one for me. It's not my fault you were jealous of the band."

"If I was the only one for you, why did you divorce me?"

"You divorced me, Jill."

"Fine, You win this time. So what's your problem?"

"I lost a friend today, and now I don't know what to do." Phil's voice broke as he said this.

"Oh, Phil." Her voice softened. "I'm so sorry. What happened?"

"Well, we were in the supermarket..."

"Uh huh."

"And when I finished the shopping I came out and just like that, he was gone."

"Just like that? At the supermarket?"

"Well, I left him at the gumball machines. When I returned, he...he..."

"He was dead, honey. I understand."

"What?"

"He was gone. It's okay."

"Jill, he was gone gone. Not dead gone."

"Oh," she sighed deeply. "What a relief. I thought he had died. Wait, so then what's the problem? I mean, maybe he just got tired of waiting and went home."

"When I got home, he wasn't here. I've looked everywhere."

"He lives with you?"

"Well, not officially. I just met him yesterday afternoon. We've discussed his moving in, and he said yes, but nothing's offical yet. He spent the night with me, I made him breakfast, and we went to the supermarket. And now he's gone." Jill didn't know whether to comfort him or hang up.

"Phil, look, obviously a lot has happened in your life since the last time we spoke. I can't say I understand everything you're telling me right now, but let's take this in steps. First of all, I need you to calm down."

"I miss him, Jill. I'll feel terrible if anything's happened to him." Phil's voice wavered, and Jill wondered if he was crying. 

"I'm glad you feel comfortable telling me all this, and I'm sorry if I've been callous in the past. Even though I've asked you to keep your distance, I still accept you and I love you, in my way."

"I know, Jill. Thank you." Phil sounded a bit calmer.

"And I love you for who you are, not for what you do, or with who you do it. And I want you to know I understand, no matter what you have to tell me."

"Last night was a real discovery for me. I confronted some of my biggest fears." 

"I'm glad you were able to finally do that, Phil. Since when have you been dealing with this?"

"For as long as I can remember. But now things are different. It's changed me. And I miss Marvin."

"Okay, okay. Just give me a minute." She paused, thinking. "Please understand that this is all a bit hard for me. You've known since before we were together?"

"I tried to tell you. Remember how I always used to make you leave so I could clean the house alone? I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't let you see me like that."

"Uh, well, thank you for that. I don't think I would've wanted to see that either."

"It was pretty ugly."

"Phil, don't say that. You have to accept yourself for who you are. There's nothing unnatural about it. Still, don't you think it's a little strange to get so emotional about some guy you just met after just one night? Not that I know much about these things."

"What guy? What are you talking about?"

"All this that you're telling me... Your friend Marvin..." Jill voice trailed off.

"...Is not about some guy. Marvin's a spider."

"..." Click. Long silence. Looooong exhale.

"Jill?"

"Phil, just shut up. I'm reviewing the conversation."

"Okay..."

"..."

"..."

"Okay. I'm ready. Now, as you were saying, Marvin's a what?"

"He's a spider. I found him last night. He's really nice. And I'm worried about him."

"Phil, actually I'm a little worried about you. Do you mind if I come over? I think I need to hear this in person."

"So you understand?"

"Oh, I never said that. No I don't. Not at all. But this is a little too strange not to at least hear you out. For now, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. But I'm not ruling out calling the guys in the white coats."

"I know it sounds a bit strange. It's been a long twenty-four hours. You know I wouldn't call you unless it was important." 

"Okay. Give me half an hour and I'll be there. And be prepared to mix me a strong drink. Sounds like I'm going to need it."

Part 6: Shop 'til You Pop (The eagerly awaited continuation)

Dear Readers, please allow me the liberty of narrating this next part in the third person omniscient, as it's rather difficult to tell while including myself as a character. By allowing me to remove myself (as narrator) from the central narrative, we will also be able to avoid all the "I" references, as well as a fair share of "me" and "my" interventions.

Thank you.

Now, without further ado, let's get back to the mystery of Marvin's disappearance...


While Phil was enjoying his shopping day, Marvin was on a most serious quest. He had initially climbed into the gumball machine in the hopes of finding a purple gumball. They were very rare in his experience, and he had spent a very long time entertaining a notion that he felt he could now finally verify or refute. The question was simple: 

Do purple gumballs taste like grape flavored soft drink?

Now to most people this is a relatively unimportant question, either because most people (especially most young people) already know the answer to the question or they (in this case most not-so-young people) have simply outgrown gumballs and thus no longer ask themselves these sorts of questions.

Marvin, who wasn't a person to begin with, knew very well that this was the sort of question that you just had to know the answer to if you claimed to be at all worldly. And now Marvin found himself weaving and squeezing his way between gumballs in search of the purple one he was sure he had seen as he climbed down the side of the machine. It was somewhere near the bottom left corner, he was almost certain. The problem was that now that he was inside the machine, away from the glass globe, he was finding it difficult to get his bearings.

Crawling in as straight a line as he could - considering that his trajectory was being constantly modified by the large spheres in his path - he made his way back to the glass. From there he followed a clockwise route around the globe, looking above, below, and around him as he went.

Then he saw it.

There, quite close to the bottom of the machine, approximately one layer above the candy dispensing wheel, he saw that familiar purple hue he was looking for. So deep, richer than a royal purple, but not without a touch of electric. It was bluer than the darkest grapes he'd seen, but it was...yes, it was almost exactly the same purple he'd seen on those cans that one time in the refreshment aisle. And finding the can that had burst, and that wonderful carbonated puddle. Mmm. So tasty.

A loud mechanical cranking sound flooded the space around him, and the earth shook. Marvin was yanked out of his ruminations and into an extremely unstable world of shifting colored orbs. He found himself crushed between two of them, one orange and one blue, and them the floor fell out from under him. A second later he was standing on metal. 
The dispensing wheel.

"No, mommy, it's white. I hate the white ones. I want a purple one." 

The sound was everywhere, outside and inside at the same time. A loud clacking sound went through him as the candy door closed again. He started looking around. There was a snowball's chance in hell that this child was going to get his purple gumball.

It was just to his right. If he could just shift over a bit...

"Sandra, I only have two quarters left. You can have them, but if you don't get the purple gumball then I'm afraid you'll just have to make do with what you get."

Marvin heard the next quarter go in. The wheel began to turn again, taking the orange gumball around in a semicircle with it. A hole opened beneath the hard orange ball, and it was gone. Marvin grabbed the blue candy marble tightly to keep from falling in behind the orange one, and he pulled a pair of his legs out of the way just as the metal contraption sealed off the space where the gumball had fallen.

Then he got an idea. A way have his gumball and eat it, too.

"ORANGE!?" the girl screamed.

"Honey, you like the orange ones," the mother's voice replied.

"Not these orange ones, I like the other orange ones. These taste like tangerines. Blech." 

Judging by her pronunciation, Marvin observed, she must have shoved it in her mouth anyway.

"Mommy, I shtill hab one mou quarrer."

"Then use it, sweetie, and let's go home."

The quarter fell into the slot, but Marvin was ready. He found the purple gumball, shoved it into the nook where the orange gumball had been a moment before, took a deep breath, and swallowed it in one mouthful.

Mmm. Grape.

He thought this, of course. Speaking at this point, even if he had wanted to, would've been quite impossible. He waited patiently, and the wheel began to turn. The Marvin-covered purple gumball rolled down the chute and hit the back of the door. Marvin's whole body shuddered. Then the door opened, and he rolled out.

"Black. Darn. Eww, it's sort of weird. It's got fuzz or something."

"Oh, honey, don't eat that. Let me see it." The mother took it - or rather them, if we're counting the gumball and Marvin - from Sandra's hand. "Sweetie, I think it's moldy or something. Or hairy. Or... Agh!" Marvin fell from her hand to the floor and rolled under the machines.

"Mom! You dropped my gumball! What'd you do that for?"

"I'm sorry, honey," said the mother, trying to steady her voice as she spoke. "It was just..."

Looking at me, she had wanted to say. Instead she said "Never mind. Come on. Let's go home. I'll buy you an ice cream on the way."

As the mother and daughter walked away, Marvin hit the wall behind the candy dispensers. Unable to do anything to alter his course - the gumball was easily five times his normal body size and his legs were now all but useless - he was now a victim of basic physics. The ground was angled slightly and there was a small groove in the cement, close to the wall, probably for runoff when it rained. Marvin rolled into it. The angle carried him off to the left and then slowly down the mild slope that led from entrance of the supermarket to the parking lot. He tried spitting out the thing he was beginning to regret having swallowed in the first place, but it was no good.

By this time Phil (that's me) had finished his shopping and was back at the machines looking for Marvin. After nearly an hour of searching and unsure what to do next, Phil did the only thing he could do. He got in the car and brought the groceries home.

Marvin, meanwhile, did the only thing he could do, which was let kinetic energy roll him into the parking lot where - hopefully, if he wasn't run over - he would wait for the gumball to dissolve so he could move again.

Once that happened, he would figure out his next step.


"Phil?"

"Yes, Marvin?"

"I like the way you're telling the story..."

"I think I'm hearing a 'but' in there."

"Well, it's just that..."

"Yes. Say it."

"Couldn't you have drawn a nicer picture?"

"No, not really."

"OK. Just asking."

Part 5: Shop 'til You Pop

Hello again, readers, and thank you all for your patience during what was essentially the entire month of January.

"And part of December and the beginning of February."

"Yes, Marvin. They know. The blog has dates on it. But some people will read this months from now and not even notice the gap."

As I was saying, our intention is to add a chapter to Marvin's story once per week. I simply wish to inform our audience that should some natural disaster hit then there is a fair chance that a new chapter will NOT be published in that week.

"Are you really writing that?!"

"I'm just trying to plan ahead."

"For what? An earthquake? A tornado, perhaps?"

"Well, you never know."

"Phil, please, any normal person would think you don't want this job."

"Now Marvin, you know that's not true. After all we've been through."

"Like what? What have we been through?"

"Don't be that way, Marvin. You know full well that our adventures started right after that first breakfast. You.... Um, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Maybe this is the way to begin the new chapter. Just a suggestion."

"Yeah, but this is where I become the omniscient narrator. I'm not sure I'm going to write it very well. Especially as I'm a character in the story."

"Well now that you've explained yourself, I'm sure our readers will understand."

"But Marvin, I'll have to explain it to them."

"Phil."

"Yes?"

"Look at the screen."

"Oh, yes. I had forgotten."


Hello? Still there, dear reader? 

Good. Then let's get on with the story.


After I'd washed the dishes and put the kitchen back in order, I took Marvin with me to the supermarket. I didn't have much to pick up, but I thought it might be fun to take him along so he could see some more of the town. He scurried up my arm and sat on my shoulder. I got into the car, and Marvin remained on my shoulder for the duration of the ride. From there it was easier for him to look out the windows and see the sights.

I parked near the door of the store. Walking toward the front door, I scanned the area for a grocery cart. An old man I knew had just finished unloading his groceries into the trunk of his car and was pushing his cart back to the front door. He wore a woven straw fedora with a black band. We nodded to one another, and he handed me the cart. I thanked him with a gesture and he headed back to his car.

Marvin, meanwhile, had spotted the gumball machines at the entrance and launched himself from my shoulder, aiming for the nearest one. He landed softly on the corner of the nearest machine. Pretending to take a special interest in the gumball machine, I leaned toward it - or rather toward Marvin - and spoke to him as quietly as possible so as not to attract any attention.

"Aren't you coming in?" I half whispered. He had started crawling down the side of the globe, admiring the big colored balls as he journeyed down.

"What?" He started toward the little door where the gumballs came out.

"Aren't you coming in the shop with me?" I said, a little louder.

"I'd like to do a little exploring of my own, if you don't mind." Having found the door, he turned to me and smiled shyly. He lifted the door to the gumball chute and disappeared inside.

"It's a big supermarket. There's lots to see. I think you'd enjoy it," I called after him, trying to sound enthusiastic.

"What?" he shouted, though the sound was muted by the metal and glass.

"Please come out," I said. A passing woman looked at me a bit strangely. I fumbled in my pocket, pretending to look for change.

I couldn't see Marvin, which was probably good because the woman had stopped and was staring at me.

"Have you got change for a dollar?" I asked her. She mumbled an apology and walked away. Just what I was hoping for. I looked back at the machine. I still couldn't locate my little eight-legged friend, but he was obviously somewhere deep inside the machine. A few of the gumballs shifted in the globe, and I heard a muffled grunt. "Marvin, I really need to get the shopping done. I'm going to go in without you."

"Go ahead. I'll be fine." He appeared at the glass. "Let me just do things at my own pace."

"OK. But when I've finished the shopping, I'm coming to get you and we're going home. I have some work to do." As I headed into the supermarket, I heard the gumballs rattling slightly.

I followed my usual route through the store: fruits and vegetables, dairy, canned goods, dried goods, cereals, bakery, delicatessen, frozen foods, and finally checkout. The supermarket was full of customers. Half of my shopping experience consisted of actually buying things, while the other half was occupied with saying hello to regular customers I encountered almost every week.

There was a group of Italian immigrants, to which the man in the straw fedora belonged. The members varied from week to week, but a few of them were almost always there. As I shopped, I would turn a corner and there they would be, stopped in some aisle - usually near the vegetables, or the canned tomatoes, or the Barilla or De Cecco pastas - speaking to one another in Italian. I understood nothing, but I always eavesdropped anyway.

I also liked waiting in line, asking for cold cuts or a special cut of chicken or grated cheese. The Italian man had told me once that he always got a Parmesan-Romano mix, which the attendant grated fresh for him every week. I had done the same ever since. And of course it was never hard to strike up a conversation with someone while you were waiting in line. I learned a lot of kitchen tricks and recipe secrets from those people.

Finally, there were the locals I had grown up with - teachers from elementary or junior high school, or adults I had known as classmates - who would or would not say hello when we saw one another. Some of them didn't seem to recognize me, though it's possible they didn't want to. But it never mattered either way. It was just a nice, grounding feeling to know all these people were there, to be depended on from one week to the next, one month after another, like the sun coming up each morning. Maybe that feeling was what I had discovered in Marvin, and the reason I had become close to him to suddenly.

An hour later, my shopping done, I pushed the cart out the door, stopping at the gumball machine where I had left Marvin. I called to him, tapping on the side of the machine as I did.

No answer.

"Marvin? Marvin?" I pressed my face against the glass of each machine, one after the other, tapping, calling out, and eventually shaking each one fiercely.

No reply. No response. No sound.

No Marvin.


TO BE CONTINUED...

Part 4: The morning after the first night

Hello again, dear readers. I feel that I owe you an explanation for


"There you are. I've been searching the whole office for you."

"I haven't been here."

"Oh. That explains the 'not finding you' part, then. Where in heaven's name have you been? Our readers have been waiting to hear the rest of the story."

"I don't know that we actually have any readers, Marvin."

"..." 

"Don't look at me like that."

"..."

"OK. Sorry, Marvin. First were the holidays, then I had some work to finish up at my other job, then..."

"Which was...?"

"You promised me we'd never discuss my other job here."

"Fair enough. So you were saying?"

"Well then I got a terrible stomach virus as a result of some meds I've been taking."

"Meds?"

"I'm not going to discuss that either. You can ask me about the stomach virus, though."

"Phil, when did we become so distanced? You used to tell me everything."

"And I still do."

"You aren't now."

"That's because I'm writing the new blog entry, Marvin, and everything we say to each other comes out on the screen."

"What?! Why is that? When did that start?"

"What: just what I said. We talk, it gets printed. When: right from the moment we started writing the first entry. Or maybe the second. I don't remember now. I've been away." 

"Yes, and..."

"And why? I don't know, I don't ask. I just type."

"I guess we can discuss this later."

"That would probably be wise."

"So what about the stomach virus?"

"Oh, on second thought, could we not talk about that right now?"

"Why not? Now you've changed your mind? Phillip?"

"Marvin..."

"Phil, answer me!"

"Marvin, please..."

"TELL ME ABOUT THE STOMACH VIRUS, PHIL!"

"Marvin..."

"Why are you whispering?"

"Marvin, look at the screen."

"..."

"..."

"Oh."

"..."

"Um. Well. Can you erase that?"

"I don't think so."

"I see."

"I hope so. Can I tell the next part of the story now?"

"You left off with making me a bed."

"Yes I did, my little hairy one."

"I'll always cherish the memory of that first bed."

"You're lucky I had a matchbox. I never kept matches in the house as a rule."

"And the cotton balls?"

"They were just leftovers from a previous girlfriend. She was in the habit of cleaning her pores. And she used to make fuzzy Christmas cards with fake snow."

"Oh, I love that kind of card. So nice to walk across. Yes, please go on with the story."


I suppose there's no more need to finish my opening sentence anymore, so on with the story...


I woke the next morning bleary-eyed as usual, but anxious to get out of bed and start the day. I'd had the strangest dream some time in the night - talking animals, some horrendous monster in my bedroom, walking outside and hearing voices - and I caught a glimpse of something on the bedside table.

Which brought me to my senses about as quickly as a slap in the face.

The dream made all sorts of sense now, and the previous days events came to back to me quickly. 

Marvin. His name is Marvin.

He seemed so snug sleeping there that I decided not to disturb him. Still, I could hardly wait until he woke up. I had a question to ask him urgently, a question that was driving me mad.

I went into the kitchen and got the percolator going. While I waited for the gurgling to begin, I made scrambled eggs and toast, and I squeezed a couple of oranges, pouring the juice into a glass.

As I sat down at the dining room table, I heard a small, familiar voice.

"Coffee! Eggs! And juice juice juice juice JUICE!"

"You forgot the toast." He was sitting among the plastic fruit I had in a bowl as a centerpiece. Actually, he was doing something more like lounging on the fake green grapes. His legs splayed about. He looked quite comfortable. 

"Well I thought it went without saying. How can you serve eggs without toast?"

"Good observation. Would you like some?" 

I got up as he replied "I sure would! Thanks," and looked around the kitchen counter, opened a few drawers, and then finally found something appropriate. A plastic lid I had stuffed in a junk drawer. I rinsed it under the faucet and dried it with a kitchen towel. I brought it to the table and sat down again. Marvin had climbed down from the fruit and was sitting by my plate.

Hmm... What about the juice? And the coffee?

While I thought about it, I started preparing his plate. I cut off a bit of toast and placed it on the upturned lid, then I took a small pile of eggs with a teaspoon and added them to the toast.

"That looks delicious. Thanks, Phil."

"How did you sleep?" I asked, by way of making conversation, though the real question I wanted to ask was nothing so mundane.

"Wonderfully. You know, I find lots of discarded human stuff that I can put to use. One man's trash is another man's treasure, as I read in a newspaper article once."

"You read the newspaper?"

"Once in a while. Well a few articles anyway. You can't imagine how tiring it is crawling across all those pages of text. Usually one article per week is enough for me. I learn a little about your world and get some exercise."

"It beats running away from cats."

"I suppose it would." And then I knew the answer to at least one question. "Wait! I've got it!"

"Excuse me?"

"Just a sec."

I went back to the kitchen, opened the junk drawer, and scowled. I ran back through the dining room and into the bathroom. (Don't get the wrong idea; my house wasn't that big - from the kitchen to the bathroom was maybe 20 meters, a total of about six or seven bounding strides.) I opened the medicine cabinet and found two small bottles of eye drops that were both well past their expiration date. I unscrewed the caps of both, gave the caps a good washing, and returned with them to the table, carefully transferring a bit of coffee into one and a bit of juice into the other. Marvin stared at me agog.

"You're a real gentleman, Phil."

"Thank you." I took a bite of toast. "Marvin," I said, "you know, I'm sorry about last night. I just have a bit of an insect phobia."

"Yeah, I got that from our conversation."

"Yes, well, and...I mean to say, simply, that I'm sorry. And I want you to know that I'd be really pleased if you decided to stay."

"You mean it?"

"I wouldn't say so if I didn't." He beamed at this. "But there's something I really need to ask you."

"Shoot. Anything. What's on your mind?"

"Where on earth did you get the tiny Santa Claus hat?"

"From my stash. One man's trash is another man's treasure. It probably fell off somebody's Christmas ornament or something. And, well, I found it before they did."

"Somebody's Christmas ornament?"

"I've been around, Phil."