The Arachnid and I

I was strolling to work the other day I felt something brush my hair. I rummaged around with my hand and felt something scurry across the back of it. I jumped back startled even though it was only a slightly feeling I knew that it was some bug type thing. It then scuttled its way back into my hair causing me to use both hands to try and force it out of my hair. I was careful not to encourage it to venture in any of my ear holes because the last thing I would want is a spider taking refuge in my lug hole, especially after seeing a naff 70s horror movie about such a thing. In the film a killer spider makes a nest in a lady’s ear and eventually thousands of tiny spiders are released when the hairdresser cutting her hair accidentally cuts open a lump on her head. It was horrifically disgusting and because of this I was mindful to cover them up with my thumb. I looked like an idiot but the thought of a spider in my hair made me feel really agitated so I rubbed profusely around my hair until I felt it back on my hand again and then I flicked my hand quickly back up making the little spider launch high into the air and land a few metres away in the grass. I brushed myself down regained my composure and then noticed the frightened look of an old lady walking her dog after witnessing this event.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Alright, alright I’m coming just give me a moment.” Said Charles sitting bolt upright on the toilet seat. He pulled the chain so that it looked like he had been to the toilet, stood up and looked at his gaunt hollow eyes that stared back at him in the mirror. Then he stepped outside to see Marla, his wife, stand just outside like a Hyena stalking its prey. He swore, she looked like she was bearing her teeth at him.

“Why, oh why, Charlie, that every time I arrange something for us both to go to, you try everything you can to screw it up. You think by locking yourself in that toilet everything will go away. Well it won’t, and I don’t want to be late any longer, I’ve arranged dinner with my sister for two weeks now and if you think we’re not going to go because you can hide in the toilet you’re wrong.”

“ I was in the toilet to be at one with my thoughts. I wanted to think for myself without you nattering away at me.”

“I don’t give a shit Charlie.” Marla looked at him up and down, noticing that he was wearing his pink shirt, although slightly crinkled, easily acceptable at the Indian restaurant they were visiting. He still didn’t have his shoes on but he looked like he was ready to go.

“Look, I said I was going to come to your crappy meal even though that bum of her boyfriend Peter is going to be there. He fucking stinks and yet I’m willing to put up with his bad breath and body odour to keep you happy. And you won’t. You won’t, even give me five minutes to spend some time with myself.”

“Why, were you masturbating?”

“No! You know I wasn’t. Now I’m coming but I can’t do anything with you standing right in my face spewing out your frustrations, now move.” Charles, decided the conversation had now ended and barged past Marla making her stumble as he stomped past. He went to the wardrobe to find his shoes, remembering he’s got a meeting with Gregor later on tonight. He really didn’t want to meet up with him tonight, he couldn’t stand him but yet he felt obliged, no, felt ashamed as he was commanded by Gregor to meet with him tonight and he knew he’d turn up.

“Fuck!” Shouted Charles flinging his shoes across the room at the realisation of the thought. Even though that was hours away he also still had to endure the forthcoming meal. His dark thoughts had left him now but only to be replaced with trivial mundane duties. He wondered what was more tormenting.

They both got into the car. Marla, silent but her face glowing red in fury. Charles looked at her, admiring her wavy long brown hair, her upright nose that was the focal point of her beautiful face. He loved her but he just couldn’t stand her attitude, he was sure she was having an affair with someone else.