Hello again, readers. I am beginning to enjoy telling this story. I hope you are, too.
On we go with the story...
The sun creeped in cautiously, illuminating the living room furniture like the opening scene of a play, a little at a time, slowly turning up the intensity and color, revealing shapes and bringing definition to her surroundings. Then a fine, yellow-orange horizon of light appeared halfway up the living room wall, the light broadening and dissipating as the sun rose, filling the room with morning.
Jill lay on the sofa, half awake, watching the shadows change on the wall. Her head was a little heavy, but it wasn't bad enough to call a hangover. She rolled off the sofa and ambled into the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, she found a bottle of aspirin, popped the top and tipped two tablets into her hand. She returned one to the bottle, tossed the other into her mouth, and looked around for a glass. Finding none, she pulled back her hair and stuck her mouth halfway under the faucet, turning on the water and taking a swig to wash down the aspirin. She straightened, splashed some water on her face, toweled dry, and sat down on the toilet.
The bathroom had two doors. One opened onto the hallway she'd just come from, though the hallway was more of a rectangular juntion that connected the bathroom, two of the bedrooms, and the living room. The other door was on the opposite end of the bathroom and led to the third bedroom: the master bedroom, where Phil was still sleeping, rather heavily from the sound of his breathing. The door was open, but even though she could look into the room from where she sat, Jill could barely make out the bed. The room was still dark. She had drawn the curtains the night before when she put Phil to bed.
She looked in the closet in the spare room and found an old bathrobe, which she wrapped around her. It was blue terry cloth, and loose strings of cotton hung from it at random points on the fabric. She straightened up the sofa and opened the curtains in the bay window, leaving the sheers drawn.
By the time she had made the coffee, she could hear movement in the bathroom. Shortly after that, Phil shuffled into the living room. She looked over her shoulder at him, and then returned to the business of hunting down cups and teaspoons. He was bleary-eyed and wearing nothing but his underwear and a white t-shirt. With the exception of the night in between, he looked almost the same as when she'd put him to bed. No, that wasn't entirely fair. He did seem a little more rested. Marginally.
"Well, good morning, Sunshine," she said. "Coffee?"
"You know I always hated your cheerfulness in the morning." Phil wandered toward the kitchen, following the smell of coffee.
"It's a great way to start the day. You should try it," Jill said
"I can never be cheerful until at least eleven."
"It's almost noon, Phil."
"Not in Hawaii."
"You're more awake than you look." She opened cupboards, closed them, opened more. "Did you get any sleep?"
"Yeah, some I guess. I kept waking up. But yeah, I suppose I slept some."
Having located the cups, Jill took two that matched and set them on the counter. "You've moved things around in here."
"Yeah. I got bored with it. I felt like a change." Phil rubbed the bridge of his nose with a finger. Then he pinched it, wincing slightly. He scowled. "Any word?"
"On what? Oh, no. But then again, what word should I be waiting for? Should I expect to suddenly hear a little voice from the cupboard?"
"You might."
"Or maybe I should turn on the radio just in case there's news."
"Jill, don't be like that."
"Or maybe you're just expecting a knock on the door."
There was a knock on the door. Jill and Phil looked at each other.
"This is the part where you answer the door."
"Oh. Yes. Right." Phil went to the door and opened it. It was Fred, the maintenance man from the supermarket.
Phil said "Hello."
"I must be going," said Fred. He looked down at Phil's state of undress, blushed, and started to turn away.
"But you've just arrived, Fred. What brings you here?"
"My legs. I walked." He glanced at Phil, glanced down, and looked immediately away. "I don't feel very comfortable speaking with you like this." He glanced at Phil again, and again he turned abruptly away.
"I don't..." Phil looked down at himself. "Ah, yes. Sorry. Just a moment. Jill?"
"Yes?" she called from the kitchen.
"Could you grab me my robe? And maybe pour another cup of coffee?"
"Okay. Why? Who is it?"
"Fred."
"Fred?" Jill returned. Her voice came from a different place behind him. She was moving now.
"Yes. Neighborhood Fred. Friendly Fred. Walking Fred."
"From the supermarket?"
"Yes," Phil said, slightly exasperated. Then it dawned on him.
"Think fast," said Jill from somewhere behind him. As he turned the robe hit him in the face.
"Thanks." He untangled the robe and threw it around him. "Fred, why don't you come in?"
Fred stepped into the house, taking off his hat gingerly, as if it were a precious crown. Phil gestured to the sofa and Fred sat down, holding the hat in both hands. Though Phil had known Fred for years and was used to his eccentricities, he had never seen Fred do anything like this. Fred set the hat delicately on the arm of the sofa. He didn't take his eyes off of it.
"Good morning, Phillip." Fred always called him Phillip. "I came here on an errand." He gestured at the hat. "I believe this is yours."
Phil moved his face closer to the hat.
"Hey!" shouted Marvin, leaping from the hat onto Phil's nose. He gave it a big squeeze.
Phil crossed his eyes and looked down his nose.
"Where have you been? I've been worried sick!" He ran his finger lightly down Marvin's back. "Jill?"
"Yes?"
"He's home."
"Phil..."
"What is it?"
"How could you possibly know what Jill was doing while you were sleeping? How can you write about something you didn't see?"
"Artistic license, Marvin. Artistic license."
"I don't understand."
"It means I made it up."
"Floating away on a bubble." Fred sat on a bench, propping his elbow on a utility table, which ran about a quarter of the length of the long wall of the maintenance room. "Well that's something else."
Fred was silent for a moment, and Marvin saw his face get serious. Fred looked left quickly, like he was seeing something that Marvin couldn't, or like he was trying hard to remember something. Then Fred looked back at Marvin, and smiled warmly.
"You're lucky you got stuck to my shopping carts. Otherwise, who knows what you might've gotten stuck to. Or where you'd be now."
"I'm sort of lucky that way." Marvin sat
at the edge of the utility table. Next to it was a metal frame bed, or maybe it was more like a cot. Marvin glanced at it, then at Fred. A question formed in his head. "You said your shopping carts. Are you the owner of the supermarket?"
"Oh, no. Not at all. I've never owned a supermarket."
"Oh," said Marvin. He looked down at the floor.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Fred replied. Marvin wasn't sure whether he was saying it seriously or sarcastically.
"I am a little disappointed," responded Marvin. Fred looked up at him, clearly surprised. "I was actually hoping I could find out where you got the gumballs from."
Fred laughed. "Sorry, but that's not one of my jobs. Why? Are you planning another adventure?"
"No. Just interested. I like to expand my knowledge whenever I can." He looked at Fred mischievously. "And I love gumballs. I find them wonderfully attractive," he confided.
"A fatal attraction in your case." Fred laughed.
Marvin didn't know if Fred was making a joke, so he laughed too, just in case. "Don't exaggerate. It wasn't fatal. Maybe near-fatal. No, it wasn't even near-fatal. Just precarious. Besides, you came along, didn't you?"
"That's true." Fred shrugged. "But even so, you can't go around eating gumballs like that and expect to always find someone to get you out of trouble all the time." He looked at the invisible object to his left again, then at the floor, then back at Marvin. The odd look swept across his face again, like a cloud passing before the sun, then just as quickly the cloud passed and Fred was Fred again. "You need to be careful. Looking for trouble is not smart."
"Very true, but that's not my goal. Looking for trouble, I mean." Marvin sensed that Fred wasn't entirely comfortable, but as far as Marvin could tell it wasn't about him. So Marvin continued. "I just like gumballs. I like everything about them. I love them."
"You must if you wanted to eat one so big."
"That was just because it was purple. I'd never tasted one before. See? Gumballs have different flavors. They're shiny. They're bright and colorful. They're smooth. And they're spherical, like marbles, but they're not perfect spheres. They have small imperfections on the surface. Bumps, ripples. I can't tell you how sexy that is." Marvin rolled his eyes, closed them, and sighed.
"Sexy?" Fred looked embarrassed, and he looked at the floor again.
"We all have our fetishes."
"I suppose," Fred said, still looking at the floor. "But I don't understand those things."
"I hope you don't mind that I told you that."
Fred looked up again, and he thought he saw Marvin blush. He reflected for a moment, trying to remember if he'd ever seen a spider blush. He looked left, at nothing. He decided it was better not to think about it.
"No. I don't mind." Maybe it was timidity, or something else, but Fred certainly seemed vulnerable.
"Well, that was really all I wanted to say about gumballs. Unless you know the guy that brings them or buys them." Marvin looked hopeful.
"Sorry to disappoint you," Fred replied. Marvin frowned. Fred shrugged.
"So if you're not the gumball guy, what do you do around here?"
"You mean what is my job? I'm the maintenance man," Fred said. "I change lightbulbs, mop floors, place stock, and pick up the carts. Sometimes, when I'm needed, I'll do other things, too." He sounded as if he were reciting it.
"Here at the store?"
"Here, and at a few other stores in the area," Fred said proudly. "I like all the stores where I work, but this is my favorite store. I've known Mr. Williams for years, since I was very young and my parents shopped here. He was the first person to give me a job and the only person who ever really made me feel right. I have a place here."
"Mr. Williams?"
"He's the owner of the store."
"Okay. Made you feel right? How? What do you mean?"
"He's the only person who made me feel..." - Fred strained for a word - "who made me feel nothing."
Marvin was perplexed. He sat silently, waiting. Fred continued.
"Nothing. Not strange. A lot of people make me feel strange. People aren't always nice to me. Or maybe, I mean most of the time they're nice. But they don't always act normal. They talk to me differently, and some people don't talk to me much at all. I've always had that problem, since school."
"What happened?"
"I just didn't have a lot of friends. People didn't understand me, I guess. Everyone always acted strange around me. Or made me feel like I was strange." He looked away and shrugged.
"You seem fine to me."
"Thanks. I don't seem fine to everybody. At least, sometimes I don't think so." Fred looked away again, staring at something that wasn't there.
"I think everybody feels that sometimes."
"I never felt like that with Mr. Williams. Never. Mr. Williams was the only person that ever made me feel like I had a home." He gestured at the cot. "I have a place here."
"You live here?"
"No, at least not anymore," Fred answered. "I lived here a long time ago, for awhile. Now I live at my home again."
"Again? Did you leave your home?"
Fred looked left, then down, then at Marvin.
"When I needed someone, Mr. Williams was there. He let me stay here, and he was there every day. He gave me a job. He taught me things. He's the only person who's ever been there, since my parents." He looked left, hard, staring at nothing. Angry or afraid, something Marvin couldn't read. "I can find jobs and I can work at different places, but if anything ever goes wrong, I can come to Mr. Williams." Fred recited.
Marvin wanted to ask Fred about his parents, but he decided against it.
"I'm glad you have someone, Fred. And thank you for your help today."
"Well, you have someone, too. And don't think that I've forgotten to take you home."
"No, Fred. I think that's something you would never forget."
Welcome back, reader. Today I must ask you all to bear with me. I know it's not the first time I've asked you for patience, and I wish I could say that it will be the last. However, I believe it is important not to delude oneself, so I'm not making any promises I can't keep, at least not in public.
"You really should just get on with the story."
"That's what I'm trying to do, Marvin. I just need to warm up."
"You've been pretty good about getting right into it over the last few chapters."
"Well they say that spring can really hang you up the most."
"It's not spring yet."
"Close enough."
"What's bothering you really? Phil?"
"Well, it's just that when the story gets more personal, it's always hard to get started. It's easy to write about you. It's harder to write about me."
"You can skip it if you want to. You don't have to tell that part."
"Marvin, I can't keep her out of the story anymore than I can keep myself out of it. We're integral. Don't worry about it. I'll get on with it now."
"You sure?"
"Yes, really. Please let's not make a big deal out of it. The readers wouldn't even know about it if you hadn't started talking to me while I was writing."
"I did it again, didn't I?"
"Yes. You have that talent."
"Sorry."
When Jill arrived at the house, she found Phil pacing, biting his nails, and putting what was left of his hair in danger of extinction. He had not prepared her drink as requested - a dumb request, she thought, as the ice would've melted by the time she arrived - but she knew where the liquor was. Phil told her the story as she grabbed a tall glass and went to the kitchen for some ice.
He sat at the dining room table as she cut herself a slice of lime. She asked him if he had lemons, knowing he didn't. Phil liked lime, Jill liked lemon. Together they were lemon-lime, and this used to make them laugh. But that was a long time ago, when gin tonics and laughter were common. A lot was different then. She dashed back to the bar and grabbed a second glass. Returning to the kitchen, she cut another slice of lime.
Highballs in hand, Jill sat down at the dining room table with Phil and set one of the glasses in front of him.
"Okay. So assuming I have accepted that you have overcome your fear of spiders overnight, that this amazing transformation happened because the spider in question started talking to you, that you made it a bed..."
"This bed," Phil said, reaching over and delicately moving the matchbox from the sideboard to the table where they sat. He placed it between their glasses.
Jill glanced at it. It was a matchbox with cotton balls or something stuffed into it. She exhaled slowly and took a swig of her drink. She savored the flavor on her tongue for a few moments, then swallowed unceremoniously. She looked back at Phil. "Okay," she said, elongating the word. "So that's the bed." She studied his face, concerned. He certainly looked worried, but at least he seemed to be calmer than before.
"That's it. I was lucky to have cotton balls."
"I'll say," she said, hoping she sounded supportive rather than condescending. "Okay then. Assuming I can accept that you made breakfast for it..."
"Him. And I didn't make him breakfast. I was making breakfast for myself anyway. But it would've been rude not to offer. I mean, after I went at him like that with the broom. And if you can't accept all of this, Jill, then I don't know who to turn to. I'm sorry I called you, but as I said, you're the only person I feel I can tell this to. But I swear it's all true and real."
"True and real. Fine." Jill stared at him, then she lowered her gaze, saw the matchbox again, and looked up at Phil again. His expression was pleading. She shook her head and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, Phil. Really I am. I believe you. I just don't know if you know what this sounds like."
"Well, two days ago I wouldn't have believed it if anyone had come up to me and told me the same thing. In fact, I probably would have turned and run in the opposite direction." Phil shrugged. "But here we are."
"So then the two of you went to the grocery store and you left him at the gumball machines."
"Well, he jumped out of my pocket, but yes. He crawled into one of the machines and that was the last I saw of him."
"But he wasn't in any danger."
"He was at a grocery store. There were people around. Anything could have happened to him."
"Phil, he's a spider."
"I know that."
"Okay, so there are spiders all over the place. There's no reason for anything out of the ordinary to have happened to him. I'm sure he did just fine before you two met."
"Yes, I know you're right. And he said he was fine inside the machine just before I left him. I'm just worried, okay?" Phil pulled at a tuft of hair by his left temple. So where is he now? He said he wanted to stay with me. We talked about it."
"Well, that's what we'll have to figure out. Look, let's stay here tonight, and if he shows up we'll be here to greet him."
"How is he going to cover that distance? The supermarket isn't on the next block. He's tiny."
"I don't know, but if he does, we'll be here. But you need a good night's sleep. I'll take you back to the supermarket tomorrow. That seems like the best place to start. And we'll find him. Don't worry."
"Okay. Do you want to sleep in the bedroom?"
"I'll sleep on the sofa. But thanks. Now finish your drink, brush your teeth, and get to bed."
She was surprised at herself and at how well - and how quickly - she had assimilated and taken command of the situation. Then again, old habits die hard. And when it came to Phil, she certainly had the habit. She was used to sorting it all out whenever things got out of hand. Phil became a wreck while she stayed calm, cool and collected.
She sipped at her gin tonic and poked at the lime, sending it toward the bottom of the glass. Bubbles formed on its surface even as it descended, stopping it in midfall and bringing it back to the top of the glass.
Calm, cool and collected. She was good for him that way. And he knew it, which was probably another reason he had called her. Oh well. Now that she was here, she could be that person for him, at least one more time.
I am sure all of you agree that Marvin's story was left in a more precarious state than my own, so without further ado...
Marvin submitted patiently while his new acquaintance doused him in an oily smelling, highly flammable liquid. The maintenance room reeked of kerosene. Fred worked diligently, but progress was slow. Using a putty knife, he proceeded to separate Marvin from the shopping cart. It took time, but the process was easier than Marvin had anticipated. Fred scraped at the goo on the handle and the bars, pushing it forward, accumulating it, and carefully dislodging Marvin in the process. Then he transferred the entire mauve wad to a scrap of sheet metal he'd found lying on a work bench. Fred cut around Marvin with the edge of the putty knife, removing the excess mass of gum and scraping it away from Marvin and off the sheet. Then he stepped back and took a deep breath. His brow furrowed. He could not figure out how to get all the gum off Marvin without ripping him to pieces or, at the very least, leaving him bald or even limbless. He turned away, scanning the room for anything that might help.
Marvin sensed his frustration but didn't know what to say. In any other situation, he would be pacing. That always helped him think. But any sort of movement was difficult in his current state. He tried walking across the sheet metal, slowly and deliberately, pulling at each limb to detach it from the metal, setting it down, getting stuck again, moving another limb. His feet trailed strings of gum behind them. He gave up after four or five steps. He was a mess. And he stank of sugar and fossil fuel.
"Maybe the kerosene isn't the way to go, Fred," he ventured.
"Well, it works for removing tar. I use it on the carts, on fingers. It always works."
"Okay. But gum isn't exactly tar."
"Obviously." Fred turned back to Marvin and looked at him sharply. "But maybe there's another way..." He pulled a lighter from his pocket. The sheepish grin on Marvin's face did nothing to disguise the panic in his eyes. Reconsidering, Fred returned the lighter to his pocket. He went to the door and opened it to let some fresh air in. "Do you think I've never had to clean gum off a shopping cart before?"
"With a spider stuck in it? I don't know. Have you?"
"Well, no," Fred had to admit. "Not with a spider in it."
"Okay. I would've been surprised if you had. There's no shame in that. I'd even venture to say that most people haven't had this experience." Marvin thought for a second. "And while we're on the subject, just so you know, I don't usually find myself in this sort of situation either."
"I should certainly hope not. You wouldn't last too long."
"Actually, for a spider I'm surprisingly resilient. So what else removes gum?"
Fred scowled. "You might have thought to ask that question before you decided to chew some."
"Yes. I admit I was a bit hasty. But it was an experience I had been building up to for a long time."
"Getting stuck in gum? You wanted to do that?"
"No, of course not. I just wanted to taste a purple gumball."
"You could have picked a smaller gumball."
"Hindsight is always twenty-twenty." Fred looked at him, confused. "It means that it's easy to comment on what should have been done after something's already been done."
"That's true."
"But the fact is, I've never been one for regret. Everything I've ever learned that had any real value was the result of my getting into trouble first."
"Sure." Fred looked around.
"You seem distracted. I'm boring you," said Marvin.
"No. I'm just looking for a way to clean you off while we talk. So, from what you're telling me, it's better to make mistakes than to plan ahead."
"Not at all. But planning ahead doesn't stop you from making mistakes, nor does it stop stuff from happening to you that you weren't expecting. No matter how hard you plan, things happen without your consent. But those things, even when they annoy you, can bring you the most satisfaction in the long run."
"You still sound like you wanted this to happen." Fred's brow furrowed as he tried to understand.
"I assure you I didn't. This is just an unexpected consequence of a desired experience. But now that I'm here, I may as well get the most out of it." Marvin flashed him a periwinkle smile.
"But you really didn't think through the gumball thing at all before you did it, did you?"
"What can I say? Curiosity got the best of me."
"Curiosity killed the cat," Fred said, happy to be able to contribute his own hackneyed phrase.
"The last time I encountered a curious cat, it nearly killed me."
Fred laughed. "Must be a different world from your perspective."
"Different perspective. Same world. So, any other ideas on how we can get this gum off?" Marvin was enjoying the conversation, but he was anxious to return to the subject at hand.
"Just one." He looked over at the refrigerator freezer by the soft drink vending machine. "How well do you handle the cold?" And before Marvin could answer, Fred picked up the metal square, with Marvin still stuck to it, opened the freezer door, and threw Marvin in along with his makeshift pedestal. Fred closed the door behind them, muffling Marvin's shouts of protest. "Don't worry. It should only take a few minutes."
Marvin felt the pressure change almost as soon as the door closed and the interior temperature returned to something below freezing. It was pitch black. The minutes passed, but Marvin's eyesight refused to adjust to the light. There was no light to adjust to.
Something was different, though. With each passing moment Marvin was finding it harder to move. The cold was affecting him, of course, but it seemed to be having a bigger effect on the gum. Before long, he was frozen solid, and his sticky coating had become a hard, light-purple crust. He would have shivered, if he could have moved at all. But movement was no longer an option.
And then he was nearly blinded as the freezer door opened again.
"You okay in there?" Fred's silhouette said. Marvin couldn't see him clearly for all the light rushing in.
"Mnh mm muhn neh," Marvin grunted to the best of his ability.
"Good. It won't be long now." And the freezer door slammed closed again. Marvin felt the pressure in his head change again as the freezer vacuum-sealed against the temperature differential.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the next thing he knew, the door was opened again and he and his metal plate were moving. Then he stopped in the air. Judging from his center of gravity, it felt almost as if he were crawling on a wall. As his eyes adjusted, he could detect Fred holding the metal square in his hand like a tray, or a shot put. His vision cleared more and he saw a dusting of frost that had accumulated on his purple shell.
"Hold still. Don't move," Fred said, somewhat unnecessarily. Marvin looked at him, trying to move his eyebrows and at least communicate his distress to Fred.
And then Fred launched Marvin at the wall with all his strength.
Marvin hit the wall with a deafing clang and crunch. Then he fell to the floor in a rain of purplish flecks. The square of sheet metal fell nearby.
He stood up, dazed, and brushed off a few large chunks of gum. He had a few bald spots, but otherwise he appeared to be fine. He picked at the remaining flecks of purple while they were still frozen.
"You knew that was going to work?" he asked Fred, who had bent to scoop him up and set him on the work bench.
"Of course," Fred lied. "Let me find you something to wrap up in. You're probably cold."
Marvin chewed frantically. And his jaw hurt. But he had to do something, and quick.
Sorry. We're getting a little ahead of ourselves here. When last we left Marvin, he was in no position to chew. So let's backtrack a bit.
He had spent hours waiting, somewhat impatiently, by a parked car. He had not done so by choice; it was simply where he had rolled to, and then stopped. He lay at a strange angle, half on his side, half on his back, if his spherical body could be said to have a side or a back. At least he hadn't stopped face down.
Marvin prided himself on his patience (for most things) and also for his primarily rosy outlook on life. However, his patience was now wearing paper thin, and he had come to the inevitable conclusion that there was no way he was ever going to move from this spot by simply waiting for the gumball in his mouth to dissolve. True, the hard sugar coating had softened somewhat, but the overall size and shape of the gumball had barely changed, and thus neither had the size and shape of his body. He was feeling bloated. And he was tired of being immobile. But what could he do? The time had come to figure something out. But how?
Fortune smiled on him, however, before he could come up with a solution. While thinking through possible action plans, Marvin heard a clackety, rattly, metallic sound drifting in and out of earshot. Now the sound seemed to be coming towards him. He looked around as best he could to determine what it was.
The source of the sound turned out to be a man pushing a long, snakelike row of shopping carts before him, one within the other like a stack of paper cups that had fallen over - except made of metal and with wheels. Maybe not like a stack of paper cups at all. But Marvin wasn't concerned with accurate similes at this juncture. He was too focused on whether this potential encounter was a blessing or a danger.
As the man zigzagged around the parking lot, he would stop from time to time to retrieve a stray cart. Each time he stopped, the carts would clack-clack-clack forward in a wave, separating and lengthening the concatenation of carts, reminding Marvin of a Newton's cradle. The man would then grab the new member, add it like a caboose to the end of his train, and push it all forward again, clack-clack-clacking the carts back into one another. Marvin was glad for the distraction. But he still didn't know whether this was a fight or flight situation. He was hoping it wasn't the latter. The man was now near the door to the supermarket, where Marvin had first gotten himself into this predicament. The man added another cart to his collection and started back in Marvin's direction.
When he reached the slope in the driveway, the cart-train began to pick up a bit of speed as gravity pulled at the front of the train. The man guided it toward the next stray cart, about twenty feet from where Marvin rested. The cart-train snaked a bit to the left, then a bit to the right as it was steered down the incline.
As the man brought his metallic, reptilian vehicle to within a few feet of the remaining cart, - it's moving rather quickly now, Marvin thought - he pulled on the last cart in the chain. The carts went clackclack clack-clack, clack clack, clack. The wave moved down the line of carts, slowing as it went. The snake stretched forward, reaching toward Marvin, but the carts held together. The man started toward his quarry. Marvin, who couldn't do anything else, blinked in relief.
Clack. Clack. Clack clack. Clackclackclack...
The two front carts in the chain disconnected from the main body like a slow-motion projectile head, separating from the front of the snake, obeying the laws of momentum. Rattling as they went, they rolled forward, picking up speed. Four sets of wheels rolled over Marvin, and the carts rolled on, scraping along the side of the nearby car and leaving a deep scratch as they went, until finally they came to a full stop by the driver's side door.
KEE-RRRUNCH! went Marvin.
SCEE-RRRATCH! went the car.
SHEE-IT! went the man.
Marvin was dazed, and a bit flattened, but otherwise unharmed. The man, meanwhile, had abandoned his quest and was flailing his arms and moving toward the runaway carts, thus coming closer to Marvin. And he was upset.
Marvin, in his spherical form, felt suddenly and horribly conspicuous. Afraid for his life, he did what any rational spider would do in a situation like this. He chewed. Frantically.
Which brings us to the present. Or at least to where we mistakenly started this chapter.
As sore as his jaw was becoming, it felt like the mass in his mouth was subsiding and he was slowly returning to his normal shape. But still not enough so that he could do the one thing he most desperately wanted to do: spit it out. He swore he would never eat another gumball, purple or otherwise, for as long as he lived.
Well maybe he couldn't spit, but then something else occurred to him. Maybe he could just blow a bubble and force the gum outside of his body that way. He took a deep breath and started blowing.
(Just one moment for a quick interruption. At this point, some smart-ass - sorry, I meant to say extremely clever and observant - readers may be thinking "How, if Marvin was nearly incapable of moving, and if he was so full of gum that he couldn't even spit it out, how did he ever manage to inhale?" Well, the answer is simple: through his nose. So let's not be so literal and just enjoy the story, shall we?)
Before long he had blown a very large bubble. And the larger it got, the more Marvin could feel his body returning to normal. Also, the more he could feel the wind tugging at the bubble, and hence him. Well, this hadn't exactly been his plan, but at least now he might have found a way to get carried away from this puddle-ridden, car-polluted driveway. He blew harder, and the bubble grew. Then along came a strong gust and he was airborne. Flying. Free at last.
The wind blew him and his bubble directly into the main row of shopping carts. The bubble caught on a handle and started to lose air, spreading a sticky purple web over the handle as it settled. The man watched, incredulous.
"Was that GUM?!" he shouted. "Just what I needed." He was apparently unaware of the small, eight-legged figure attached to the gummy purple blob. "You've gotta be kidding me. All right, kids! Where are you?" The man looked around for possible culprits while Marvin and his gum slowly deflated. Seeing no one, the man looked back at the carts, sighing. "And I was almost done for the day. Now I've gotta clean that off."
He walked back over to the last stranded cart, brought it back and added it to the rest, and then went back to retrieved the viper's metal head. It had done a real job on the side of the car, but he wasn't saying anything to anyone. He walked the two meddlesome carts toward the back, rolling them past and to the end of the long serpentine column. He glanced at the sticky purplish mess as he passed, and sighed again.
"Gonna need kerosene for that."
Marvin flinched.
Within moments the carts jarred together and the snake was in motion again. The man whistled as he shoved the carts forward, rounding the store and pulling up next to a service entrance at the side of the building. He opened the door and walked through, the door closing behind him.
Marvin could feel his legs again. He tried to move, but he quickly realized that he was mostly stuck to the handle of the cart. He was also mostly purple.
The door opened again and the man reappeared, carrying a medium sized metal canister and a rather filthy cloth. He popped a small protective cap open on the canister and tipped it into the cloth. A smell like gasoline filled Marvin's nostrils. The man moved toward him, brandishing the cloth.
"Let's see what we can do here while it's still fresh."
The man rubbed at the splotches, bringing away gum and dirt. He folded the cloth over and rubbed again at a new area. Then he saw Marvin.
"Well now, you poor little thing." The man moved his face closer to Marvin. "What are you doing there? You sure were in the wrong place at the wrong time." He thought back to the scratched car, and the wayward bubble. "Sort of like me, I guess. Well, you look pretty well stuck there. Let's see if there's any way to unstick you."
"Could you? THANK YOU!" Marvin couldn't help himself. The words flew from his mouth before he could stop them.
The man squinted. Marvin flinched again.
"Did you just say that? To me?" the man asked sternly.
"Yes," Marvin replied meekly. Maybe he had been a bit rash.
The man studied him. "Okay. Just making sure I wasn't hearing things. I'll do what I can."
"You're not surprised that I spoke to you?"
"Why should I be? I've worked odd jobs all over this town for nearly thirty years. It would take a lot to surprise me these days. Now hold still and let me see what I can do."
"I'm not going anywhere. Clearly. What's your name?"
"Me? Fred."
"My name's Marvin."
"Pleased to meet you, Marvin." Fred took a toothbrush out of his breast pocket, squirted it with kerosene, and brushed lightly at one of Marvin's legs. "Okay, I think we're getting somewhere."
"Fred?"
"Yes, sir."
"When we're done here," Marvin began slowly, "would it be too much to ask if you could help me with one more thing?"
"What's that? You're a small guy. Your problems can't be that big."
"Could you help me find a friend?"
"I'll do what I can."
