Moving to Freedom, .Org(on)

Itsy Bitsy Fritsy 4: How It Went Down, Part One

by Fritzi Webber
(go to the beginning)

I wasn’t able to start spinning right away when the man went to sleep. The cat usually jumps right into bed with him, but last night she lurked around the landing.

It was as if she suspected there was something going on. I started to wonder if she might have read yesterday’s post. It seems unlikely, I know, but my paranoid thoughts didn’t know that.

Most of my lines would be higher up, at head level, but as fat as she is, that cat can really jump. I vividly remember the time I saw the feline terror pluck Sascha from the bottom of a picture frame. It was gruesome. I can still hear the crunching sounds and see that prickly tongue licking with satisfaction afterwards.

I didn’t dare go to work while she was around.

Finally, after an hour or so, the cat wandered into the bedroom. I waited until I was certain she was asleep, and then I sprang into action. I kept it up all night long, extruding strand after strand, crossing back and forth, until I heard the man’s alarm clock go off. I retreated to the door frame of the guest room, exhausted, and I waited.

Except, I had forgotten the light! I scuttled back to the fixture and started tapping frantically on the bulb. I had the rhythm all wrong in my haste, and had to force myself to slow down. I was soon rewarded with the tink of the filament breaking, and once again I withdrew to the guest room, just in time.

He stumbled out of the bedroom in his pre-caffeinated state, the cat at his feet, mewing for breakfast. I hadn’t thought about this, but maybe the man would be further tripped up by the cat running around underfoot. I felt giddy from the expectation of success.

And then I froze, when I realized that the cat was on alert, perhaps sensing the monstrous web I had spun. Would she be able to warn the man? The suspense made me quiver. The cat’s vocalizations took on an urgent note, quite different from her “I’m hungry” caterwauling.

Oblivious, the man said, “All right, all right, Kitty. You’ll get your breakfast.”

And then, “What the—?” He had discovered the light was out. He took a step, his hand reaching uncertainly for the railing, and then he felt the first embrace of my web. Although not in contact with the strings to feel the vibrations, I could imagine being tuned in and the music of the web telling me that prey had been caught.

The man thrashed with his left arm and lurched sideways! But alas! His right arm closed on the railing. “Ew! Gross!” he said, and stepped backwards… and tripped! …but fell into a sitting position on the landing.

Dammit!

It had almost worked.

I’m tired. And disappointed. And hungry. I’m going to take a nap and will tell you about the aftermath later.