SPIDERCLAUSE
A Novella
The Journey Begins…With a Single Sidewalk
A lone brownish-black Black Widow spider sleepily made his way out of the tattered wool sock he’d been calling home and sniffed at the dew covered ground. He looked up. When you’re the size of a small green pea you have make sure the water you found on the ground is just dew, and not from rain above; that could be catastrophic. A single drop from above landing on your behind could be enough to send you skidding uncontrollably into a river of drops and who knows where the river goes; usually down a nasty drain pipe and into the infinite blue. A water spider he was not.
After satisfying himself that it was indeed dew on the ground and he was not about to walk out into a rainstorm, he picked his way across the bark covered ground then paused at the great cement highway. Today is the day he would cross the vast shelter-less expanse and officially begin his journey. The cement highway was dangerous for any number of reasons. If it did begin to rain he had no way of finding shelter and in moments he would be washed off the edge and lost in the torrent of a Rain River. If he was not careful he could easily get a foot caught in any number of sticky substances that often graced the cement highway, and then he might bake in the sun before getting loose.
Then there was the threat of the humans. Few of them ever left a spider alone, especially a feared black widow spider; as if one as small as he was, could ever hurt one of the giants. Their pets weren’t much better. While a cat was usually harmless, dogs were often curious to a fault. The real danger on the cement highway did not come from the humans or their pets, but from the birds of the sky. No matter how well he looked, both ways and up, before crossing the highway, a bird could appear out of nowhere and swoop down on him in a split second. One needed two parts courage and one part luck to make a safe and successful highway crossing.
As he crouched on the edge of the highway, he found a small green leaf he could hide under while he looked both ways, then up, and prayed for a bit of luck. Having said his prayer he lifted up the edge of the leaf and peaked out. He peered out over the highway and concluded that for now, the coast was clear. Satisfied, he crept out from under his hideaway and walked out onto the edge of the sidewalk. No sooner had he taken two steps with each foot than he heard an ominous squawk. He didn’t need his momma there to tell him he was in grave danger.
The loud sound of beating wings confirmed his worst fears as a blue blur rocketed out of the sky. Terrified, he skittered back under the leaf quivering with fright, grateful that Blue Jays are noisy as a herd of ants. After a minute, he gathered his courage and peeked out from under the leaf. Sure enough, there was a Blue Jay in the middle of the highway, and he was pecking away at something. He could see it dancing around and pecking, fluttering its wings; then all of a sudden it leapt into the air and disappeared into the sun. He could just make out some helpless creature in its beak.
He crouched under the leaf trembling with fear. Had he stepped out on the highway not a half a minute sooner he’d be the one being carried off to a nest somewhere to feed some hungry chickies.
After waiting for what seemed like forever he was finally ready to cross the cement. He looked both ways, then up, and prayed for a bit of luck. He crawled up on the drying concrete and looked about. He could see nothing as far as the eyes could see. He was a little surprised to see the path void of any other travelers, especially on such a fine morning. Then again, maybe they all left while he was hiding and shaking in fear after the bird left. He figured that must have cleared the road of the rest of the travelers. After all, no one likes to see another suffer the fate you’ve only barely managed to avoid.
The drying cement felt good under his feets and he resisted the temptation to bask a little in the sun. That thoughtless behavior could easily lead to a bird’s beak. Continually looking to the right, then to the left, then up and ending with a prayer for luck he picked his way along the smooth cement highway very aware that his quest might just end right here before even getting a respectable start.
He was half way across when the hairs on his little legs began to stand up and prickle. He was in trouble. He looked to his left, looked to his right, then up in the air; he said a prayer for luck. He felt the sudden rush of air from beating wings above, long before he saw the blue jay bearing down on him.
He told himself to run, to just sprint across the cement in a blind panic but not one of his eight very capable legs managed to obey the command. He was stuck. He rolled over, splayed out his legs to give himself a bigger profile (someone told him to do that once) and flashed his bright red hour glass that was on his tummy. If that didn’t provoke a bit of caution, nothing would. Then he remembered of course, that he was still too young to have his hour glass and all he was doing was exposing his soft underbelly.
He cracked open an eye just as he was rewarded with a blast from the Jay as it narrowed in on its helpless pray. So much for looking left, then right, and saying a prayer for a bit of luck; his had just run out, or so he thought.
He closed the one eye he’d had the courage to open, the moment he saw the open beak descending on him. No point watching oneself get eaten; wouldn’t do him any good.
Then the strangest thing happened. He felt another blast of air and a rush of wings as his assailant veered off at the last second and headed back for the safety of the sky. Then he heard it; a dog was barking. The sharp excited yips of a dog that has just discovered a delightful toy, one that wasn’t part of his normal collection. No sooner had it began than it stopped, and was replaced by the sound of toe nails on the cement. He wasn’t sure he’d even been discovered until he heard the dog’s snuffling nose as it explored its new object of affection, a black widow spider.
He’d only just begun to get used to the idea he’d been rescued when he felt a big wet velvety nose examining his posterior. If only he was a wasp, he gives that intrusive nose a big pointy surprise. All he could do was spin out a bit of web, and not even that much given his very young age.
That nosey black velvety nose continued to explore my butt for longer that decent even for a very good friend, then from the heavens above I heard a thunderous voice which could only have come from one of the giants.
“Rex, get away from that thing. It looks like a Stink Bug.”
A what? No not a stink bug, how degrading. “It’s a spider…I mean, I’m a spider.”
The nose stops its annoying snuffling and withdraws a bit.
“Yup, it’s a Stink Bug alright,” said the thunderous voice.
“No I’m not,” was my cry of indignation. How could anyone not tell an eight legged black widow spider, which happens to be brownish, with a six legged, definitely black Stink Bug; how very degrading.
“Come on Rex, get your nose away before it sprays you, then you’re gonna smell like a skunk.”
Believe me fella, if I could spray you and your mutt, I’d have already done it.
“Come one Rexy let’s go back inside. Looks like its dead anyway.”
Dead? Dead? Can you not tell the living from the dead? These giants are way less intelligent than we’ve been giving them credit for. I bet if I saw one of their numbers lying on the sidewalk I’d know if he was dead or not.
“Hey buster,” I screamed in my high pitched, but very loud voice. “I’m a spider and I am ALIVE.”
But alas, they didn’t hear. Rex and his giant had moved on leaving me to ponder being mistaken for a lowly Stink Bug. Perhaps I should be grateful though, they did scare off that Jay, and thanks to them I did not become its mid morning meal.
I righted myself and looked to the left, then to the right, and above, then said a prayer for a bit of luck. I moved on. I am glad to report; the rest of my great highway crossing was both without excitement and without company as I didn’t see a single soul the whole time I was trudging across; how odd.
Chapter Two
Ants
“I’m an ant and I’ve been told,
The hive will triple before I grow old.
Stand up, stand up, march on march on.
In my jaws I carry twice my size,
It’s a lot heavier than you giants realize
Stand tall stand tall, solider on solider on.
I heard them long before I saw them and truth be known I was pretty frightened. I had never met an ant before but I think it’s pretty unnatural that something that far down in the food chain managed to get themselves bestowed with super powers, while all we got was two extra legs to help haul around our supremely fat bellies; it’s not fair.
I had left the cement super highway not ten minutes ago and here I was faced with another challenge already.
“I don’t know but I heard rumors,
Widow Spiders are full of fumes.”
That didn’t rhyme. “Hey, that didn’t rhyme.” What kind of marching ants are these?
“Well it’s true.”
“Where are you? Why can’t I see you?” I didn’t think they were supposed to be that small. “And it’s not true; we BLACK widows do not stink.”
“There he is,” came a group of voices off to the left.
“Where he is…am I. Where am I and why can’t I see you?” I asked suspiciously.
“He’s a Stink Bug,” one confirmed, he’s not a spider, he’s a Stink Bug.” It was echoed by dozens. “Stink Bug Stink Bug Stink Bug…”
“I am NOT a Stink Bug; I am a BLACK widow spider.”
“His butt’s too small. He’s a Stink Bug alright.”
I’m a Juvenile…”I’m young so my butt’s small still.”
“You call that thing small,” came a voice to his immediate right.
He turned quickly and then he saw them. A line of reddish brown ants, about the same color as the bark he was walking on. They came marching from his left in a row about three ants thick.
“We are ants and we think,
You’re a bug and you stink.
Sound of Sound off…”
“Count the legs,” I yell, ticked off. I couldn’t believe these creatures were insisting I was a Stink Bug; how awful is that? I waved in the air as evidence.
“I wouldn’t be waiving those around if I were you,” recommended an ant nearest to me.
“And why not?” I asked argument ally.
“Doesn’t he know?” asks another ant.
“Don’t I know what?”
“The hive figured it out a long time ago.”
“Figured what out?”
“The more legs you have the farther down on the food chain you are.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Everyone knows Black Widow spiders are very high up on the food chain, as is any venomous creature, even the rattlesnake.
“You couldn’t be more wrong,” I concluded.
“He really doesn’t know echoed the ants.”
Then another spoke up. “It’s very simple, he began sagely, “The less legs you have the higher you are on the food chain. Look at the Giants (humans) they only have two legs and they pretty much eat everything else. Their four legged pets, the cats and dogs are still higher than anything that has more legs, like even us ants.”
“I guess you ants are pretty far down the chain aren’t you?” I said smugly.
“Actually no,” they replied. “Nothing is more efficient on this earth that the hive. We are the only creature with more than two legs that are higher than the Giants.”
“I see…” so by your logic, anything with less than two legs are higher up than the Giants then, right?”
They thought for a moment before confirming it.
“Well the Gopher Snakes that live around here are gonna be real happy about that.”
“Except snakes,” they were quick to correct.
“And what about those termites in Africa? Those towers they build pretty much put your little mounds and tunnel complexes to shame.”
“We don’t talk about our cousins,” came the collective reply.
“Convenient”
“There’s one thing we still don’t get…” pondered the ants.
“What’s that,” I wondered.
“What’s a Stink Bug doing with eight legs?” the asked rudely, pointing to my scrawny legs.
“I am not a Stink Bug. I am a BLACK WIDOW SPIDER, I yell back, finally at the end of my patience.
“Where’s his hour glass?” ventured another ant.
“Juveniles don’t have hour glasses,” I informed them.
“Hey, did you just see that?”
“See what,” I asked, wondering what new tact they were up too.
“Tell him to step back into the sunlight,” commanded a gruffy voice.
I had no idea what they were up to now, but didn’t see any reason not to comply, so I did as requested and immediately regretted it.
“He’s not black,” said one. “He more of a brown,” commented another. “I think he’s brownish black squeaked a young one.
How can they live so close to me and not know a thing about their neighbors?
“I’m a juvenile,” I responded, hoping no further explanation was needed.
It was.
“So, you’re a juvenile, so what.”
“So what? Juvenile black widow spiders are more of a brown black, then as we mature we either turn completely black or a glossy black like our female counterparts.”
“So you’re part chameleon then…” Clarified the ant nearest me.
“Did I say I blend in, no? I change color as I age.”
“Well there’s a convenient story.”
“Huh?”
“He’s not a chameleon,” clarified a knowledgeable one. I seen one once, they’re quite beautiful.
“Oh, and now I’m ugly?”
“No, you’re just short tempered and testy.”
“I give up. I have to be on my way now.”
“What are you doing out here anyway?” they asked. “Aren’t you a long way from your web?”
“I’m on a very important quest.” I answered.
“Probably looking for his father,” they said to themselves softly.
“So what if I am?”
“Touchy…” came the group reply.
“Look, I’d love to stay and chat some more but really, I am busy.”
“Why is it all you guys are always looking for your daddies?” They want to know.
“What do you mean all us guys?” I asked, getting a bit annoyed.
“I don’t think he knows…” commented a nearby ant.
“Know what?”
“You wanna find your father spider; you go ask your mamma. Save yourself a lotta time.”
“Oh I’ve already done that.”
“What are you doing out here then?” they wanted to know.
“I said, I’m looking for my father. He is a superhero and he is missing.”
“Oh he’s missing alright.”
“What? You know something? You guys better tell me all you know or it’ll go badly for you.”
“Really, what are you going to do to us?” “He’s going to spray us,” said another.
“I am not a Stink Bug!”
“What’ll you do then?”
“Nothing. Just never mind what I said, I’m not going to do a thing. I’m just going to shut my mouth and be on my way. Good day to you.”
“Poor bug.”
I plunged forward and to my surprise the ant line parted and let me pass, but before I got out of earshot they treated me to one last cadence.
“We are ants and we think,
You’re a bug and you stink.
Stink Bug Stink Bug, Sound off sound off.”
CHAPTER THREE
Who knew ants could be so annoying; not me.
After living with several hundred brothers and sisters, well less than that now, I have to say it is quite refreshing to be out on my own. It’s so nice to voice an opinion and not have 78 opposing ones every time you open your mouth. It’s no wonder why our family has gone from a respectable 208 to a paltry 97. I have to admit, some of those accidental meals may not have been all that accidental.
There were also other ‘accidents’ around the web that seemed a little too convenient to be accidental. Strangely enough, whenever there was one, Uncle Ralph always seemed to be in the center of the problem. Take the crow incident last week. Uncle Ralph had been asked to take some of the kids out for a walk. Trouble is, just as soon as he got them outside he conveniently forgot about our neighbor the crow. He remembered after Mr. Crow had numbers 57 through 79 in his beak.
“Hi there”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. In fact had I been a snake I am certain I would have shed my skin just then and there.
“Are you a jumping spider, because THAT was impressive?”
“No I am not a…Oh dear, it’s a…”
“Sink Bug,” he finished proudly.
That’s what got me, why would anyone admit to being a Stink Bug, and be proud on top of that? You don’t hear dung beetles doing that do you? No.
“Yes, well I am Latrodectus Mactans, and…”
“And that’s a mouthful fella. My name’s Phil; simple, easy to remember and easy on the ears.”
“I was merely informing you of my species, not my name,” I corrected him, a tad sternly.
“Very well, I am from the genus Eleodus, and am known as a Pinacate Beetle, and to my friends, I am the Clown Beetle.”
“You’re a Stink Bug,” I confirmed.
“Phil…that’s my name, Phil…”
“Okay…” I really did not want to get into a conversation with him but I felt myself being sucked in despite myself.
“What do your friends call you?” he asked, un perturbed by my silence.
“My friends don’t have to ask what to call me.”
“Okay, so what would a non hostile friendly fellow adventurer call you?”
“Jimmy,” I say reluctantly, and I surprised myself. I really hadn’t intended to tell him my name. I was just gonna say my birth name instead, but somehow I knew that giving him that, (number one) would only invite him to ask another string of questions.
“Hello Jimmy, nice to meet you,” he replied.
“Yes, well good luck on your adventures, or whatever you’re up to.”
“That’s it? Just a hi and goodbye and you’re on your way?”
“Well I am very busy…I’ve got a rather tight schedule to keep…”
“Yes I’m sure you do. What are you doing here by the way?”
“I’m on an important mission, top secret and all…you know, eyes only? That kind of thing.”
“Top secret huh?”
“Yep”
“Eyes only?”
“Correct.”
“A real hush hush job is it?”
“Very hush hush.”
“So when’s the last time you spoke to your father?”
“What? How did you know…?”
“How’d you expect it to stay a secret, you blabbed it to three million ants just five minutes ago. I wouldn’t exactly call that hush hush, would you?”
“Well, I thought someone as disciplined as an ant would know the value of a secret.”
“You’ve got a lot to learn Mr. Latrodectus Mactans. Ants are the worst gossipers on the planet.”
“I don’t suppose I can expect you to keep it under your hat can I?”
“Of course you can. We Stink Bugs have the tightest lips on the planet.”
“Really,” I asked doubtfully.
“Oh yeah, no one will get close enough for us to gossip.”
“You got a point,” I replied putting a foreleg over my nose. Fortunately we spiders do not have the best sense of smell in the forest. We rely heavily on tactile sensation in the web.