Showing posts with label spiders. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spiders. Show all posts

Thursday, April 1, 2021

Microstory 1594: Bugs

Prompt
I’ve lived in this house for nearly two years now, and it’s just occurred to me that I’ve never seen a single insect or spider in here.

Botner
At least I don’t think I have. They’re so tiny I’d probably just miss them. There’s also a statue of a cat on the coffee table. Can I tell you how many cats I’ve seen in my life? Well, maybe I’m exaggerating a little bit, but that’s the limit of my memory right now. Mostly because I’m pretty sure there’s not going to be any more cat statues in my life, and because I don’t want to have the fate of my life decided by some damn invisible spider, so whatever happens, happens, I guess. Mother is still asleep in the next room, as she is every morning. I wish I could get away with having her sneak into my room to sleep on my bed with me, but the neighbors think my mom is the meanest mom in the world, so she’s locked in the living room with the remote control and her knitting needles to prove that point. She says I’m not allowed to be out in the house until I’ve gotten a good night’s sleep, but the neighbors say I’ve never gotten a good night’s sleep anyway, so it doesn’t matter. I don’t...

Conclusion
...think it should matter much how much I sleep. I get good grades in school, and I have a lot of friends. Everyone just needs to let me be me, and figure things out on my own. When I grow up, I think I want to be an entomologist. That’s someone who studies insects, in case you don’t know. I learned that when I was in first grade, but not from my first grade teacher, but by myself. I like to learn things on my own, and don’t pay much attention to what the teacher is saying. I don’t understand why school has to be like that, why I can’t decide what I learn, and what I ignore. Sure, everybody needs to know some math, and they need to know how to speak, but beyond that, who cares? I don’t care about social studies, so I shouldn’t have to worry about it. Just like that, my best friend hates bugs, he’s afraid of them, he shouldn’t have to study them like me. I’m growing bored in my room, so I decide to go out in search of these mysteriously absent bugs. I know my family takes care to keep them out, but they can only do so much. I should be able to find at least one. I get down on all fours, and start crawling around the house. My little sister asks me what I’m doing, but doesn’t care about the answer, and my dad doesn’t care enough to even question it. It’s not going well, so I run to the kitchen, and grab the magnifying glass from the junk drawer. I go into every room, but find nothing. I check my own room last. No, nothing in here either. Nothing on the floors, nothing on the walls, nothing on my dresser. Nothing on my desk, nothing in the trash can, nothing on my big brown bed. Wait. Wait, there is something on my bed. There are a lot of somethings. Extremely short tiny things are all over my bed. Hold on. Bugs. Bed. Bed. Bugs. Bed bugs. Oh no. Mother’s not gonna be happy now.

Sunday, December 4, 2016

The Advancement of Mateo Matic: June 19, 2104

Mateo and Leona both went to the restroom after waking up the morning of 2104. They drank some water, went to the bathroom again, and then they went right back to sleep. Though their bodies had only gone through a single day last year, their minds had experienced hundreds of days with very little rest. And sleep wasn’t so much about rejuvenating the body as much as it was about recalibrating the brain. By the time they woke up again, it was a few hours from their jump to 2105.
The Cleanser jumped in just after they had finished a nice meal with their now extremely large family. Mateo said his goodbyes, and then casually left everyone behind as if he were just a normal person going off to a 9-to-5 job.
“It looks like you’re getting used to this,” the Cleanser noted as they were walking through the woods.
“I have,” Mateo replied. “You made it necessary in the last tribulation.”
“I have received word that a future version of myself promised you that Leona would be left alone. I felt the need yesterday-last-year to assure you to not listen to anyone but me, not even an alternate version. I own you. Do you understand that?”
“I do.” He did.
He seemed a little perturbed to not be getting a fight out of him. “I don’t know if this is some kind of new strategy, but I want to also assure you that it will not work. Even if you submit to my demands, I will not get bored and leave you alone.”
“This is my life now.”
“This is your life now.”
“What’s on the schedule today?”
“A series of tasks. I want you to retrieve something for me. You shall face three deadly challenges. If you survive them, you will be rewarded.”
“Rewarded with what?”
“Immortality.”
Mateo laughed a little. “I don’t need immortality. I’m Catholic.”
“I’m speaking literally. Not everyone qualifies for immortality, and many of those who do not have spent lifetimes trying to find the right ingredients, only to be met with death.”
“Only the worthy can be immortal?”
“That’s right.”
“And it’s a drink?”
“It’s water. But it’s special, taken from a host of different places at different moments in time.”
“And what would I be drinking it out of? A hipster thermos? A mug that says World’s Greatest Dad?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Is it a chalice, is my point.”
“I guess...it certainly won’t be a hipster thermos.”
“What you’re describing is the climax of Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade.”
“No, it’s not,” the Cleanser claimed defensively.
“Three deadly challenges for the righteous, leading to immortality, taken in the form of water from a chalice. That’s The Last Crusade.”
“Fine. I like movies too. Gilbert Boyce is not the only one who watches movies. I’ve seen multiple version of that film, actually. In one reality, Indy’s father stays behind to replace the ancient knight as protector of The Holy Grail.”
“Cool,” Mateo said condescendingly.
“My point is that, just because you’ve seen one version of the movie, doesn’t mean that’s the one you’ll have to recreate.”
“And my point,” Mateo said, stopping, “is that you’re not doing a movie tribulation because you like movies too. You’re doing it because that’s what The Rogue would have done.”
“I’m nothing like the Rogue.”
“You are now. Ever since you killed him, in the way that you did, you’ve adopted some of his characteristics. He’s told me that that is how it works. He spent years as Donald Trump and was more ruthless and twisted than he ever was in that other Rogue body. But then when he left, he changed, and became more like the next person he possessed.”
“I possessed him for seconds, literally. By your logic, his personality should have faded by now either way.”
Mateo shrugged and started walking again. “I don’t have all the answers.”
“No, you certainly don’t. And you would do well to remember it.”
“Is this cave what we’re looking for?” he asked, ready to change the subject.
He yawned and began to crouch down into the rather small opening. “It is.”
They crawled and walked through the cave. The Cleanser held his hand out as the daylight behind them started to fade. He was somehow able to apport fire above his hand without burning himself. Heh. Time, right? Mateo thought to himself.
“We’re almost there.”
“Is that pirate’s chest?”
“Don’t look back, just stay on track.”
“Have you ever considered a career in rap?”
“Been there.” He stopped at the entrance to a second chamber. “This is where we part ways.”
“Ya know, if this is The Last Crusade, you end up following me in there, drinking from the wrong cup, and suffering an excruciating death while a bad actress screams in your arms for no reason at all.”
The Cleanser looked to his left, and then slowly turned to his right. “There’s no one else here. So I guess we’re not doing that part.”
“Very well.”
Fortunately there weren’t any cobwebs to contend with. Mateo wasn’t, strictly speaking, arachnophobic, like one of his grandfathers, but he certainly didn’t like spiders. The main thing that convinced Mateo that the Cleanser was unwillingly holding onto the characteristics of the Rogue—and something he didn’t get to mention to him—was that The Last Crusade was Gilbert’s favorite movie of all time. This was something he had revealed to Mateo and Leona while they were on Easter Island. Either coincidentally, or fittingly, that was also during a quest for immortality. Even more interestingly, that mission actually did end up resulting in Gilbert’s immortality, just not in the way he expected. Mateo wondered if he even ever made the connection, but then realized that the main question here was whether the Cleanser understood these similarities.
About halfway through the passageway, he was stopped by a shirtless man holding a sword. This would be the part in the movie where a rotating blade jumped out and cut off the head of anybody still remaining in standing position. The idea was that you were humbled by the presence of God, and you were supposed to kneel to him. Then you were, for some reason, supposed to do a somersault, because there’s another spinning blade on the floor! Not knowing for sure just how much the Cleanser was expecting him to reenact, Mateo figured he was choosing to be more metaphorical. He decided to forego the somersault, but maintain the humility. He covered his eyes with his arm and knelt down in subservience. “Oh mighty one, please have mercy on me.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mateo Matic, and I am but a lowly salmon. I pose you no threat.”
“Stand,” the man ordered.
Mateo stood and found the man to be both confused and intrigued.
“What is this place?”
“We are in a cave on Tribulation Island, on a planet that is not Earth.”
“I was not aware that travel to other worlds was possible. This is an interesting development.”
“Are you a choosing one?”
“I am not. I was human, but this sword allows me to steal other people’s powers.” He stepped deeper into the torchlight and widened his arms to show dozens of scars all over his body. “I have a lot of power, but it comes with a price. Though, interstellar travel shall be my greatest achievement.” He reached back and prepared to plunge the weapon into Mateo’s stomach.
“Wait!” Mateo cried. “I can’t travel to other planets. I just happen to be on one right now. Just like you.”
The man stopped. “Oh.” He pretended to wipe sweat from his brow. “Close one, right? I guess you did say you were salmon. Okay, you may pass.”
“Thank you,” Mateo replied, happy to have completed the first challenge. “Hey, what’s your name?”
“They just call me The Warrior.”
“All right, well...please stop killing people. Power isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
He made this face like it was the first time anyone thought to suggest such a thing. He answered genuinely with, “I shall consider it.”
Another man showed up from the aether for the second challenge. He seemed excited to see another person. “Hello, my name is Juan Ponce de León, but I seem to have found myself with the nickname The Navigator. Who are you, and where are we?”
“You’re Ponce de León.”
“Yes?”
“Like from history class?”
“Yes, I have apparently become famous. I admit, I do not relish the idea of eventually returning to my time and facing my death.”
“Maybe you won’t have to, the Fountain of Youth is up ahead.”
“Is it really?” He lifted his compass and examined it. “Huh. So that’s where it’s been taking me.”
“I should say so.”
Ponce de León turned around and began walking through an opening that led to a wide open space. Before them was a stone floor, but unlike in the movie, there were a hell of a lot more of them, and they were all the same clean-cut shape. “Follow in my footsteps exactly,” freaking Ponce de León warned. “This compass will take us where we need to go.” The two new friends made quick work of it, stepping only on the stones that would not fall away and destroy them.
For the third so-called challenge, instead of an optical allusion, part of the ground was just invisible...or in another dimension...or something like that, Leona would be able to explain it. Soon thereafter, they were in the chalice chamber. The Cleanser was waiting for them. “Wow. You did that weird. You were supposed to fight The Warrior, and then steal the Compass of Disturbance. I didn’t think you would befriend these guys.”
“You don’t know me very well,” Mateo said.
“Apparently not.” He clapped his hands together, preparing to sell a used car. “You know what to do. One of these contains the elixir of life. The others are poisoned.”
Ponce de León started looking around, hoping to find the right chalice. He likely wouldn’t have seen the movie, and would have no frame of reference for which one was right.
“It’s this one,” Mateo said, confident but cool. He picked up the most extravagant and heavy chalice there. It was gold, and lined with every kind of gemstone Mateo could recognize.
“Are you sure?” the Cleanser asked. “In the movie, it was the modest clay chalice.”
“Yes, but that was Jesus’ cup. You are not Jesus. You are a douchebag.” He handed it to the Navigator. “Here ya go. One glass of immortality, coming up.”
Ponce de León took the chalice graciously and dipped it into the pool of water. Before he could take a drink, the Cleanser spoke. “There is a catch. If either of you drinks, you will become immortal, and your pattern will cease. You will not be able to travel through time in any way, shape, or form. It’s either this, or that.”
“Leona...”
“Will remain on your pattern,” the Cleanser finished Mateo’s sentence for him. You’ll see her but once a year. You, on the other hand, Ponce, will remain in this time. The Compass will do you no good, and you will never see your wife and children again.” He paused for effect. “Only one of you will be able to have a drink.” He paused again. “You can choose amongst yourselves, but if one of you kills the other first, the drawback will be removed. Navigator, you’ll be able to go home, and Mateo, you’ll be able to give a drink to Leona. Your pattern will be broken, and you’ll never die.” He looked between them with a sinister smile.
Mateo Matic and Juan Ponce de León looked at each other. Then the Navigator dropped the chalice to the ground and they left the cave together.

Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Microstory 16: Murder is Murder

I am a murderer. I have intentionally killed dozens; possibly hundreds. The definition of murder is unlawful and willful killing of someone with a soul. This is why you can’t murder an animal. We might call that animal cruelty, but we kill game and livestock all the time, and only some people are bothered by it. What people don’t know, however, is that a few animals do indeed have souls. They aren’t complex souls like those of humans, but they still have them. Dolphins, elephants, and mice are a few examples of animals with simplex souls. A soul can be shared between a human and an animal, which means that all your pets have souls too. There is one creature that most would not expect to have souls. Spiders. The problem is that they have twisted, evil souls. They are utterly bent on the destruction of all life in the universe. Just because they aren’t logically capable of such a thing, doesn’t make their motivations any less real. I consider it my duty as an ensouled individual to kill as many spiders as I possibly can. Many scorpions believe this to be their duty as well, and they regularly sting and eat spiders that they encounter. You still probably wouldn’t call this murder, and that’s great for me. As long as you keep thinking that there is nothing wrong with it, I get to keep going with my mission. I will never stop, until I myself am dead, and then one day after that.