It’s Not His Fault He Was Born A Spider

by

Fay Ulanoff

            The tiles chilled my feet without slippers and the site of an eight legged spider did not warm me.

            I knew he wouldn’t hurt me as I him, but we were together and at odds at the same time.

            I, looking down at him, who was now motionless, and I was sure, he was playing dead.

            But I knew he and I could not inhabit the same room. Well, at least not with him out in the open.

            I guessed he felt the same way, but since I was a trillion times bigger, I became the master of our situation.

            Bending down on both my knees, and leaning closer, I knew he was alive and I must act quickly.

            Fearing that he might run and hide and knowing we both would have to face off again soon I reached over and unrolled some toilet paper and stretched over to the sink to wet it. Before he could run under the throw rug, I grabbed him up within it.

            I stood up and with the balled tissue in one hand, while keeping it in motion and ran up the stairs to the front door and opened it, then tossed him out into the yard.

            I hoped he had survived the slight blow from his fall, so I stepped outside onto the grass and bent down to have a look. After carefully unrolling the white fluff, I saw him crawl away.

            Poor guy I thought.  I meant you no harm. It’s too bad we can’t all live together side by side. It wasn’t your fault you are a spider.

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