An unwelcome guest
Making my patrol through the halls in my home, I search to rid any intruders or food that might be lurking around. There hasn’t been anything so far tonight, but it’s only a matter of time before my roommate Steve comes home. He always tends to bring in some form of morsel with him. So, while waiting, I curl up in the corner of the room, comfortable knowing the house is free of pests.
Although we don’t talk, I believe Steve enjoys my presence here. I do a fair share of work, even if he doesn’t always notice. Just last week, I killed some noisy crickets trying to hide away in the laundry room. Which is a very long trek from my little nest here in the main room. And when I got there, it took me twenty tiring minutes to hunt them down by their annoying reverberating noises. On top of that, just yesterday, I almost lost a leg fighting off one of those pesky Hobos. Always hiding away in their tunnels and trying to claim territory.
Not here! Not while I’m still around.
The shaking of the door rattles through my legs. Steve’s having trouble with his key, as always. I crouch low, pedipalps ready, as he carelessly swings open the door – allowing the light to stretch into the night, luring my dinner inside.
Predictably, a moth flies in and makes the grave mistake of resting on the threshold. I close the distance between us before it even has a chance to flick open its wings. I use my front two legs to hold its wings while my pedipalps hold its body before burying my dripping fangs into its thorax. It struggles for a moment until my venom finishes the job.
While enjoying my meal, one of my eyes catches a blur following Steve into the house. Still holding the moth, I use my other six legs to rotate. And confirm that there is another human with him. The light glimmers off their long hair as they wave it around, probably part of a mating dance. Between the ripples of golden light and the slamming of the door, I jitter back a little, losing grip of my half-eaten meal.
Not wanting to be a rude roommate, I wait for Steve and this potential mate to walk down the hall before crawling down the wall to find my leftovers. Unlike Steve, I don’t want to leave food just lying around. For that’s what brings in the ants. Sure, they're small and easy to kill, but their numbers are the problem, that and they’re not even that filling. By the time I hunt three down, I’m hungrier than when I started.
After wrapping the remains I dropped in a web, I stash them under the couch for a later snack. Curious, I scurry across the lumpy floor and peek around the corner to see if Steve and his mate are still in the hall. I do understand the need to reproduce; however, I hope Steve isn’t successful in his part of the dance. I’d hate to get a new roommate. It’s hard enough trying to sleep and hunt with one giant clomping around; I can’t imagine two.
In my hurry, I fail to feel the vibrations of someone approaching. Their hair glitters in the light, dazzling me, and I fail to hide.
A scream vibrates through my whole body. I raise my front four legs to show I’m just as frightened. They run back down the hall, most likely to tell Steve I was creeping on them. So, I stay still, waiting to explain myself. He’ll understand. I’m sure of it.
I see Steve approach and start waving my abdomen. Hey! High-four! Look, I’m just happy you brought something other than ants into the house for once. Just thought you could introduce me. Wait… What’s that?
His stomps are soft and easy, not jarring like when he storms away from the color-changing box. And there in his upper leg is the worst thing imaginable. The Thing that took my mother and so many of my siblings. Its deadly black underside, the brilliant colors on top, and two distracting thick threads over each side. The sky darkens as he raises it above me. I can't move. I can't bring myself to attack him. And I’ve seen how fast the Thing works; I have no chance to outrun it. Maybe once. Twice? But its attacks are endless until it has finished the job.
Then I hear it, Steve’s voice shakes the air, “Sorry little guy. Ashley says you have to go.” And one thing crosses my mind as the Thing comes down. Ashley, what a stupid bi…
