The New Pet
Dec. 10th, 2009 09:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thistledearI attemped Nanowrimo this year, but as usual it fizzled out pretty fast. However, the first part does well as a stand-alone story, so here ya go.
A new pet consumes all free time until you're nothing more than a tosser of small lattice bell ball toys. There was work to be done—dishes in the sink, laundry to be washed, rooms to be picked up, but what kind of monster would leave the poor new baby all alone to do chores when it was begging to play? I'll admit I can be a terrible person, but I will not ignore my lonely new companion when he wants attention.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, bent over with my fingers scrabbling across the floor while he jumped around, making darting lunges before leaping back several times and then repeating the attack all over again. Then he hopped on top of my hand and scrambled up the length of my arm and leapt on top of my head, legs clinging as I tried to shake him loose. Then he jumped off and scrambled across the floor, attacking a little jingling lattice ball.
My roommate was on the couch with a new library book, but most of her attention was on us. She snapped the book shut and gave her head a little shake. “That is so, so wrong. So very wrong, Alice.”
“What? I'm just playing with my baby.”
“…It’s a spider, Al. A spider the size of a chihuahua. A giant, fuzzy white spider that's under the impression that it's a kitten. It’s disturbing and wrong.” She sighed and opened the book back to her place and picked up her mug of tea. “But so are you, so I guess it works out. Carry on.”
“This is about me naming him Buster, isn't it?"
“Buster is a name for a Jack Russell Terrier, not a giant fuzzy white spider. You should have named him Fangs or Dracula or something.”
"I could have named him Fifi or Muffin. Count your blessings."
She snorted and took a sip of tea. "Not Muffin. You named that asshole tarantula Muffin."
Oh yeah. Muffin the perpetually pissed-off Goliath Birdeater. Awesome spider, but he hadn't been much for socializing—unlike Buster, who became massively unhappy if I wasn't paying him attention at all times. I've never heard of a spider with co-dependency issues, but I was used to dealing with spiders from this world.
Heather hadn't been happy with me since I'd brought Buster home two weeks ago. She'd been rooming with me since college, and had tolerated the tarantulas with good grace, but Buster was really pushing her good nature. She'd been even less pleased when I finally admitted I bought him at the Goblin Market for twenty bucks and a quick pencil sketch of the strange-looking fae selling him. My sketchpad and charcoals get me all manner of discounts at market. I've yet to meet a fae that didn't love to be the center of an artist's attention.
She had nagged me for days. Is he venomous? What does he eat? Children, he eats children, right? Is that as big as he's going to get? What if he gets bigger? Dammit Alice, I am not living here anymore if he gets bigger. We cannot have a Rottweiler-sized spider in this apartment! Nag nag nag…
Buster scuttled up with his fangs hooked around a bit of the plastic ball, the little bell jingling merrily. He dropped it in front of me and looked at me expectantly. With eight eyes, that was pretty damn expectant. I grinned and tossed the ball a few feet away, giggling as he bounced after it.
“No. No. That is not cute, Alice Sweeney. That is a spider."
I gave her a look over my shoulder. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So is cuteness. He looks like Salticidae, except for the size of course—"
“That means nothing to me, Al.”
“A jumping spider, Heather. I think jumping spiders are adorable.” Buster came back with the ball and I scooped him up (it took both hands to hold him comfortably) and held him up. “Look! Those little hairs behind his eyes look like eyelashes. He’s like a Shirley Temple spider!”
“You are sick, and get that thing away from me. It'll probably kill us both in our sleep.”
“Aww, looooove the spider. He looooooves you!”
"I hate you so goddamn much. I wasn't an arachophobe until I moved in with you. Thanks ever so fucking much." She got up, book under her arm and mug in hand. “I’m going to my room. Remember to put him up before you go to bed. I don't want to feel something hairy underfoot when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom."
"No worries. Buster would look terrible as footwear."
Heather gave a full body shudder and made a grossed out noise as she left. "Why. Why couldn't I have a roommate that likes normal pets, like...spider monkeys or hedgehogs. Why spiders?"
"Ceiling spider watches you masturbate!" I called after her gleefully.
"ARGH!"
Author's Note: Ceiling Spider is an actual macro. If you click this, you will never sleep again.
A new pet consumes all free time until you're nothing more than a tosser of small lattice bell ball toys. There was work to be done—dishes in the sink, laundry to be washed, rooms to be picked up, but what kind of monster would leave the poor new baby all alone to do chores when it was begging to play? I'll admit I can be a terrible person, but I will not ignore my lonely new companion when he wants attention.
I sat cross-legged on the floor, bent over with my fingers scrabbling across the floor while he jumped around, making darting lunges before leaping back several times and then repeating the attack all over again. Then he hopped on top of my hand and scrambled up the length of my arm and leapt on top of my head, legs clinging as I tried to shake him loose. Then he jumped off and scrambled across the floor, attacking a little jingling lattice ball.
My roommate was on the couch with a new library book, but most of her attention was on us. She snapped the book shut and gave her head a little shake. “That is so, so wrong. So very wrong, Alice.”
“What? I'm just playing with my baby.”
“…It’s a spider, Al. A spider the size of a chihuahua. A giant, fuzzy white spider that's under the impression that it's a kitten. It’s disturbing and wrong.” She sighed and opened the book back to her place and picked up her mug of tea. “But so are you, so I guess it works out. Carry on.”
“This is about me naming him Buster, isn't it?"
“Buster is a name for a Jack Russell Terrier, not a giant fuzzy white spider. You should have named him Fangs or Dracula or something.”
"I could have named him Fifi or Muffin. Count your blessings."
She snorted and took a sip of tea. "Not Muffin. You named that asshole tarantula Muffin."
Oh yeah. Muffin the perpetually pissed-off Goliath Birdeater. Awesome spider, but he hadn't been much for socializing—unlike Buster, who became massively unhappy if I wasn't paying him attention at all times. I've never heard of a spider with co-dependency issues, but I was used to dealing with spiders from this world.
Heather hadn't been happy with me since I'd brought Buster home two weeks ago. She'd been rooming with me since college, and had tolerated the tarantulas with good grace, but Buster was really pushing her good nature. She'd been even less pleased when I finally admitted I bought him at the Goblin Market for twenty bucks and a quick pencil sketch of the strange-looking fae selling him. My sketchpad and charcoals get me all manner of discounts at market. I've yet to meet a fae that didn't love to be the center of an artist's attention.
She had nagged me for days. Is he venomous? What does he eat? Children, he eats children, right? Is that as big as he's going to get? What if he gets bigger? Dammit Alice, I am not living here anymore if he gets bigger. We cannot have a Rottweiler-sized spider in this apartment! Nag nag nag…
Buster scuttled up with his fangs hooked around a bit of the plastic ball, the little bell jingling merrily. He dropped it in front of me and looked at me expectantly. With eight eyes, that was pretty damn expectant. I grinned and tossed the ball a few feet away, giggling as he bounced after it.
“No. No. That is not cute, Alice Sweeney. That is a spider."
I gave her a look over my shoulder. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So is cuteness. He looks like Salticidae, except for the size of course—"
“That means nothing to me, Al.”
“A jumping spider, Heather. I think jumping spiders are adorable.” Buster came back with the ball and I scooped him up (it took both hands to hold him comfortably) and held him up. “Look! Those little hairs behind his eyes look like eyelashes. He’s like a Shirley Temple spider!”
“You are sick, and get that thing away from me. It'll probably kill us both in our sleep.”
“Aww, looooove the spider. He looooooves you!”
"I hate you so goddamn much. I wasn't an arachophobe until I moved in with you. Thanks ever so fucking much." She got up, book under her arm and mug in hand. “I’m going to my room. Remember to put him up before you go to bed. I don't want to feel something hairy underfoot when I get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom."
"No worries. Buster would look terrible as footwear."
Heather gave a full body shudder and made a grossed out noise as she left. "Why. Why couldn't I have a roommate that likes normal pets, like...spider monkeys or hedgehogs. Why spiders?"
"Ceiling spider watches you masturbate!" I called after her gleefully.
"ARGH!"
Author's Note: Ceiling Spider is an actual macro. If you click this, you will never sleep again.
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Date: 2009-12-21 06:54 pm (UTC)*peers* Hello, new person?