15 Sep

The spiders were keeping Elizabeth awake again. Scritch, scritch. Scritch. Thump thump thump.

She gazed up at the plastic boxes, arrayed on the shelves around the top of her bedroom, illuminated by moonlight. Why did mating have to be so noisy?

Monday was already here, and she had to get up and pack by six. She lay back and thought about masturbating. Sometimes that could get her to sleep. Didn’t feel like it though.

Oh well. It wouldn’t be the first time she combined wrangling spiders with sleep deprivation.

Elizabeth finally drifted into a fitful sleep. The tarantulas were still carrying on, only now they were singing. With chimes.

She sat up abruptly. Her cell was ringing.

“Hello, Pontifire Invertebrates.”

Echoing reverberations on the other end.




“Hello, I have spiders.”

“Okay, how can I help you?”

“They bite me at night.”

Fuck. Twelve orders to pack by eight.

“Sir, have you seen any spiders in your bed?”

“No. But I know it’s them. Ma’am, you wouldn’t believe my bites. They get into my most intimate places. I’ll text you some images right now.”

“No. Don’t do that. You need professional medical help. I can’t help you.”

She ended the call, turned off the phone, and reminded herself to turn it back on when she was done packing. Fucking humans. Boringly predictable, and predictably boring. Especially the men.

On packing days, Elizabeth set everything up the night before, so that she could focus most carefully on the actual packing. Lined up on the long counter were several dozen plastic deli cups of various sizes, rolls of paper towels, wash bottles and an assortment of plastic shoeboxes, lids secured with rubber bands. Cardboard boxes of appropriate sizes and bags of styrofoam peanuts were stacked on the floor. The coffee grounds were in the coffee machine. Tape and indelible pens were at hand. Lots of tape.

Elizabeth poured water into the coffee machine, lit up her bong, and sat down for a minute, waiting for the coffee to brew. She’d start easy, with the half-dozen curlyhair spiderling order. The Indian ornamental juve would have to go into the refrigerator for a bit first. The big Aphonopelmas were easy, she could just work them through pretty fast, as long as nobody leapt off the counter and squashed. She’d had that happen once. Nobody much cared about North American tarantulas, other than people who adored them. It was hard when one suicided just because you fucked up.

The doorbell rang. Fuck! She glared at the door and stomped over in stocking feet, her nightshirt dangling. Looked out the window. Thuja.

“Thuja, I have a bunch of orders to pack, I don’t have time for this.”

Thuja stood on the doorstep, looking droll. “Hon, I’m not here to get in your way. Just brought you some leftovers.” She held out a plastic bag.

Elizabeth peered into the interior of the bag. “Did you check for mold?”

5 Responses to “@FemalesLikeUs”

  1. Miep 2016/09/15 at 3:31 am #

    This is like chapter one, I think


  2. purplesagefem 2016/09/15 at 3:55 am #

    It’s adorable. :-)

    Liked by 1 person

  3. bullydawg 2016/09/18 at 10:34 am #

    This is interesting, spiders and all…

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Miep 2016/09/18 at 10:46 am #

    It’s chapter one, sort of. I have a lot of notes stashed on this. I want to make this a novel, 200-300 pages, around that. But I’ve never tried to do anything like this.

    I can’t just sit down and write it, start to finish. I have to invent everybody, and work out plot bits, and then write the plot bits. It’s complicated. Pieces come here and there. I dream them up sometimes.

    The spider parts are from my life, I used to be a spider seller. I’m working a bunch of that stuff into different pieces, though.

    Elizabeth is drawn very fine. Thuja is rougher. I want this to be about how women can form friendships.


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