Moving to Freedom, .Org

Itsy Bitsy Fritsy 5: How It Went Down, Part Two

by Fritzi Webber
(go to the beginning)

The man got to his feet and started moving towards me. Oh, no! I scurried backwards and out of site. He flipped the switch in the guest room, letting light spill onto the landing and stairs.

Holy…” he said. “My god. What the hell happened here?”

The cat growled in response and looked around. I could tell she was looking for me.

What kind of spider would make a web this big in one night?” the man asked. I could detect fear in his voice. He was looking all around, and then noticed the cobwebs still attached to his head and arm, and brushed frantically at them. “Ew. Disgusting!” he said. He shuddered. “Kitty, you haven’t been doing your job.” The cat looked shamed, but resumed her breakfast mewing.

I sensed someone sidling up to me and I jumped, before recognizing old Boris. “Now you’ve done it,” he said.


Can’t you see how scared he is? What did you think you—”

So what. It’s a spider web. What’s he going to do?” I said.

The man stood up and said, “We’ll get that spider later, won’t we, Kitty?”

Boris pointed a claw at me, the way old spiders will do.

Oh, goddess, Boris.

He said, “Just you wait. I’ve seen this kind of thing before. He’ll scour the place. You’ve put us all in danger.”

The nagging made me uncomfortable, and doubtful of myself despite near success. I couldn’t take that from the old coot. “Boris, you’re such a downer. There are reasons why no one has ever mated with you.” The main one being that he is kind of creepy, even for a spider. And he is freakishly old. It’s unheard of for a male to live so long. (I wonder… maybe he’s gay.)

While we talked, the man found a pen in his bedroom and cleared away some of the web. All that hard work, for nothing.

That’s right, Kitty,” the man said, although the cat hadn’t responded to his question. “We have to do something about this one. Do you think they sell spider sprays at Target?

I thought Boris was going to have a heart attack. I told him to shush while I tried to think.

I wasn’t so concerned about the man. We could take refuge and stay out of the way until this blew over. I was more concerned about the HSA’s reaction. The board. They would be livid. We might have to move to places where game is scarce. I’d be shunned.

Before I could calm Boris down and work on a way to minimize the damage — killing him would probably be easiest — he scuttled off to broadcast the news.

The man and the cat started downstairs, with the cat taking one more look around the ceiling. Her gaze lingered on my door frame. I hunched down, feeling conspicuous, vulnerable. When they were finally out of sight down the stairs, I unclenched. It was a bad scene.

And that’s how it went down. Or rather, didn’t.

Back to Now

I have to admit, I was worried — just a little bit — about retaliation from the man and the cat. But I feel much better after my nap. My confidence is back.

I have an inkling of another “Plan For The Man.” Something I considered before, but it seemed riskier and less likely to succeed. I’ll work on it. I can fix this.

It occurs to me that no one will laugh at my ambitions now.


Oh, Web of Wexler, I’m being summoned before The Board.

Gotta go. More later…

(Tomorrow, probably.)