Fuzzybear
The doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it!” called Peter Smegg to his wife, Lillian.
“That’s probably Kathryn and her boyfriend,” called Lillian from upstairs.
“What’s his name again?”
“Wallace, I think? Something like that.”
“Yeah, I think it’s Wallace.”
Peter pushed forward on the crank on the side of his big comfy living room chair. The footrest swooped back into the base. He hopped up, put on his slippers, and answered the front door.
Kathryn and Wallace stood on the front step.
When Peter saw Wallace, his face went white. His entire nervous system fired, and then he said: “Yaaaaaaaaagggghhhhhhhh!!!!!!” His blood-curdling scream echoed across the neighborhood. Peter slammed the door and ran up the stairs to Lillian, bursting into their bedroom.
“Get the gun!” cried Peter, crawling under the bed.
Lillian poked her head out of the bathroom, just in time to see Peter’s feet disappear.
“We don’t own a gun, Peter.”
“Her boyfriend! He’s...he’s...he’s a-”
“A tarantuloid? Yes. Kathryn said so in her email.”
“What email?”
“The one she sent last week. She said ‘Daddy, just so you know, my boyfriend is a tarantuloid. I hope this is ok.’ Didn’t you read that?”
“No!”
“Well, it was there. You said you read it. Maybe you just glossed over it.”
“That thing is not staying in our house.”
The doorbell rang again.
“Well, it’s too late for that now,” said Lillian. She stepped back into the bathroom and aligned herself in front of the mirror. She touched her earlobe and a pair of wireless gold earrings hovered toward her head and positioned themselves below her ears. “Should I wear the gold ones or the silver?”
“When I saw him, I thought I was going to go into shock,” said Peter. “He’s hideous. Absolutely hideous. How can we let things like that onto this planet?”
Lillian sighed. “I’ll go with silver.” The gold earrings floated back into her jewelry box and the silver ones floated out, taking position below her ears. “I’ll get the door and you can come down when you’re ready.”
She left the room. Peter heard Lillian descend the stairs and answer the door. He heard voices. He heard Kathryn crying and Lillian saying something motherly. Then came a guttural, fluid-filled, almost choking voice that made the hairs on Peter’s arm stand straight up. He couldn’t move. His heart raced. His breathing intensified.
He heard Lillian coming back up the stairs. “Make yourselves at home, you two,” she said. “I’ll get him.”
Peter attempted to make himself invisible by thinking really hard about the idea of being invisible, but it didn’t work. Lillian's feet appeared in front of him.
“You have to come out,” she said.
“You don’t know what it’s like. My phobia is intense. I can’t be in the same room as spiders. You remember what the doctor said about my heart.”
“Well, what are you going to do? Stay under the bed for our daughter’s entire holiday vacation?”
“Yes.”
Lillian grunted. “Come out of there or I’m gonna pour out your entire supply of gin.”
Peter gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“I would.”
“I’m not coming out.”
“Then it’s gonna be a long, sober holiday for you, bub.”
She turned to go out.
“No, wait!” Peter said, grabbing one of her ankles. She stopped. “Ok, ok, I’ll come out and I’ll come down and say hello. But after that, I’m coming right back up here for the rest of the day. That’s all I can do for now.”
“You’ll come down for dinner, too.”
“I can’t eat with that thing in the room.”
“You won’t be able to drink with it, either.” She shook his hand off and began to walk away.
Peter snarled. “Gaaah! Ok! I’ll come down for dinner too. Jeez, forgive me for having feelings.”
Lillian paused on her way out the door. “Your daughter is downstairs crying because she hasn’t been home five minutes and already she knows that her father hates her boyfriend. Don’t think for a moment that you’re the only one with feelings.”
“Lillian, her boyfriend is a giant tarantula from outer space.”
“And gin is a great toilet cleaner. Downstairs. Five minutes - or else.”
She went out.
Peter sighed. He lay his head on the white carpet of their bedroom. He took a deep breath. He exhaled, letting his body relax. He closed his eyes. He concentrated on the blackness, but then Wallace popped into his mind.
His entire body shuddered.
“Oh god, why...why…” he groaned into the carpet.
* * *
Downstairs in the living room, Lillian popped a bottle of wine. She poured a heavy pour into three glasses on the coffee table, leaving a fourth empty. Second wave parlor jazz hummed through speakers in the corners of the room. She picked up two of the glasses and handed one to each of her guests.
Kathryn’s hand reached up to accept one of the glasses.
A fuzzy, brown appendage inside the sleeve a blue button-down shirt reached up to accept the other glass. Dripping tentacles emerged from its end to wrap around the neck of the glass and take it from Lillian’s hand. Her eyes followed the glass as it floated back to the being sitting next to her daughter on the couch. Eight black eyes stared back at her - two large, six small. The black eyes bubbled out of a bristly, brown face. The tarantuloid sat on its large thorax, four of its khaki-covered legs crossed in front of it, two by two. Two arms inside the four-sleeved shirt rested on the arm of the couch, including the one that held the wine glass. The other two wrapped around Kathryn, who, in turn, wrapped herself around the two arms.
The tarantuloid smiled at Lillian, twitching its two enormous fangs.
Lillian sat down on the ottoman on the other side of the coffee table. She turned her gaze to Kathryn. A tear fell from the young woman’s eye. She sniffled. She buried her face into the tip of the furry leg revealed though the shirt, drying her eyes with the hairs.
Lillian felt her shoulders tense.
She made herself smile back. She raised her glass.
“We are so happy to have both of you here,” she said.
Peter entered the living room, feeling his way along the walls with a paper bag over his head.
“Where is that fucking thing,” he said through the bag. “Do not let that living piece of hell touch me.”
Kathryn lifted her head and shrieked. “Oh, Daddy! You’re horrible!”
She buried herself back into the tarantuloid’s arm. It pulled her closer as she sobbed.
“Don’t worry, my darling,” slurped the extraterrestrial. “I am not offended.”
Lillian put her glass down on the table and stood up. She marched over to Peter and pulled the bag off his head. Peter got a full glimpse of the tarantuloid embracing his daughter on the couch.
“Oh, Christ!” he shouted, covering his eyes with his hands. He dropped down to his knees. “Kathryn, get away from that thing! Oh, God!”
Kathryn’s head shot up. “He’s not a ‘thing’ and I love him!” She took a slug of wine, then faceplanted back into her lover’s spindly limbs to resume crying.
“Peter, get ahold of yourself!” snapped Lillian. “Stand up!”
She grabbed him by the shirt collar and pulled. He batted her hand away. She squatted down next to him and pantomimed flushing a toilet.
“Ppppppppshhhhhhhhhhhhh,” she whispered in his ear.
He came to alert.
She took him by the arm and they both stood, Peter keeping his eyes on the ground. She adjusted her voice to ten percent sweeter.
“Peter, I’d like you to meet our guest. His name is...um...Sp...Sp...”
She looked over to the tarantuloid.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Could you pronounce your name again for me?”
“Of course, Mrs. Smegg,” he gurbled. “My name is Splorfimus.”
“Yes, yes, thank you. Peter, I’d like you to meet Splorfimus. Not Wallace, like we thought. Sorry. We thought your name was Wallace.”
“That’s ok. They do sound kind of similar chickchickchickchickchick.”
His laugh sounded like the clicking of ebony blocks.
Peter convulsed.
Lillian placed her other hand on Peter’s shoulder and walked him over to the ottoman. He kept his eyes closed and his head bowed toward the floor. As they neared the coffee table, Lillian could feel Peter beginning to shake and hyperventilate. She looked over at Kathryn, who kept one eye hidden on Splorfimus’s sleeve and one eye glaring straight back at her mother.
Peter and Lillian sat down.
Lillian glanced at Splorfimus. All eight eyes emanated kindness.
She took a breath.
“So,” she said. “How was your trip?”
Splorfimus inflated his book lungs and perked up to speak. Before he could do so, Kathryn raised her head with fury.
“It was awful!” she cried. “People stared and whispered about us for the whole flight. Then, at the airport, none of the hovertaxis would pick us up because all of them are dumb arachnophobes.”
“Drivers have the right to pick up anyone they want,” Peter growled. “It’s a dangerous job.”
“I agree,” said Splorfimus. “Drivers can never possibly know who-”
“You don’t have to defend them, Fuzzybear,” said Kathryn. “This part of the world is sooo backward.”
“It’s not backward to be legitimately afraid of something,” Peter said.
Kathryn rolled her eyes. “Ugh! I can’t believe you, Daddy. Arachnophobia is an outdated relic of hate and you should be ashamed.”
“Ashamed?” he sputtered. “Ashamed of what! Ashamed to have feelings and emotions just like every other sentient being in the universe?”
“Splorfimus has feelings too! And you’ve hurt them.”
“It’s really ok,” Splorfimus said. “I understand that we tarantuloids may at first seem-”
“You just can’t deal with the fact that I’m a grown woman now and I can make my own decisions,” Kathryn spat at her father. “You’re so old fashioned.”
“Kathryn,” gasped Lillian “Enough with the accusations.”
“I am not old fashioned!” heaved Peter, still looking at the floor. “You have brought a dangerous...monster!...into this home!”
Tears streamed down Kathryn’s face. “He is not a monster and this is not my home anymore!”
Lillian sighed. “Now Kathryn, it’s only been one semester of college.”
Kathryn gave her father the death stare. “You’re the one who’s wrong because you’re the arachnophobe. Just like Grandpa!”
“Do not compare me to him!”
Peter looked up at his daughter when he said this. In so doing, he ended up looking Splorfimus straight in the eyes.
Splorfimus smiled at Peter.
“Yaaaaghhh!” yelped Peter. He buried his face into Lillian’s shoulder and began to sob. “Gaaaaahh! He’s so fucking horrible! Aaaaahhh!”
“Why am I the daughter of such a bigot!” Kathryn screeched. She took a shot of wine, then dug her face back into Splorfimus. Tears left stains on the sleeves of his arm-legs as Kathryn and her father flew into unrestrained crying, digging into their respective partners’ accessible body parts. Lillian patted Peter on the back, then looked over at Splorfimus. Splorfimus looked back at her, then began to look around the room.
Between sobs, Katherine drank.
“Gin,” moaned Peter. “I need gin.”
He sniffled.
“And my chair.”
Before Lillian could think another thought, the family photoOrb hovered into her line of sight. It slowed when it detected her gaze, passing between her and Splorfimus on its eternal lantern-like journey across the living room. It halted for her, mid-memory.
For a moment, the sounds of woe around her dropped away. The Orb generated a three dimensional recording of childhood Kathryn blowing out candles on her birthday.
“Phhhhhhhhhhhhh!” she sputtered as the candles went out, spraying germs all over the cake.
Off-camera friends clapped. Lillian noticed herself clapping in the background. Both she and her daughter wore party hats. The video shook as Peter, filming, adjusted his hands. They had gone to Major Murray’s Roller Rink and Shooting Range, and someone dressed up in a foam costume of Major Murray walked through the background of the film.
“Daddy, can we do the machine guns next?” Kathryn squealed.
“You betcha pumpkin!” said Peter. “Let’s murder some tarantuloids!”
Major Murray waved his gun in the air.
Lillian drank in both the video and in real life.
“Um, maybe I should go,” said Splorfimus.
Lillian broke her gaze from the projection and looked around the Orb at her guest.
“Finally!” shouted Peter.
“Nooooooooo!” wailed Kathryn, pulling Splorfimus’s giant appendages closer to her.
“No, Splorfimus, please don’t go,” said Lillian. The photoOrb floated off. “I think maybe everyone just needs some rest. It’s been a long day and I know you and Kathryn have travelled far. Let me help Peter and then I’ll show you to your room. Let’s go Peter.”
She set her drink down on the coffee table, placed a hand over Peter’s eyes, and then helped him stand. She turned to Splorfimus and Kathryn.
“Please, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be right back.”
She guided Peter out of the living room to the stairs. When they reached the base, she whispered in Peter’s ear.
“Go up to our bathroom, take a Gurgycep, and I’ll bring you a gin. Wait for me there. We will discuss this momentarily.”
As soon as she released Peter from her grip, he bolted up the stairs to their room. She heard the door slam.
Lillian shook her head. “Fucking child,” she muttered.
Upstairs, Peter leaned against the bedroom door and closed his eyes. He took a few deep breaths.
“Fucking children,” he breathed. He went into the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet.
“Shshshshsh!” he hissed, wincing and jerking his face away. A spider about the size of a quarter clung to the bottle of Gurgycep for which he had been about to reach.
“Gurgycep,” the red label on the bottle boasted. “Get over it!™”
He took a step back, keeping one eye on the spider, clenching the other eye in terror.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, damn it, fucking bastard,” he said.
The spider held still, its dark brown legs clinging to the screw-off top of the bottle - four legs on top, four legs on the side. Peter felt for the drawer under the sink, his gaze remaining on his enemy. He fumbled for Lillian’s curling iron. Once he had it in his hand, he raised the device, holding it like a dagger, aiming its point at the spider.
“See you in hell you spawn of Satan.”
He lurched forward and stabbed. The point hit the bottle, causing it to ricochet off the back of the medicine cabinet. The spider went flying through the air. Peter yelped and jumped, flailing and batting himself to make sure the spider had not landed on him.
“Fuck!” he shouted.
He stumbled out of the bathroom and fell back on the carpet. The thud reverberated through the house. He pushed himself away from the bathroom, backing up against the closet.
He shook his head in an attempt to get control of his mind. He looked into the bathroom. The spider clung to the air vent on the floor.
The curling iron lay on the white tiles of the bathroom, just beyond the door.
Peter rolled onto all fours, moving with care so as not to produce any vibrations. He padded onto the tiles. His hand wrapped around the curling iron. The spider did not stir. He raised the weapon.
The spider scuttled into the vent.
Peter let his arm down, glowering.
Lillian entered the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She held a gin and tonic. She looked around the room for Peter, then glanced into the bathroom.
“What are you doing?” she said.
He turned and looked up at her. “Oh, hi.”
“Is it impossible for you to be normal for five seconds?”
He sighed. He rolled back out of the bathroom and returned to sitting against the closet.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Did you take the pill?”
“There was a spider on the bottle.”
“For fuck’s sake, Peter.”
She handed him the gin and sat down next to him.
He sipped.
“Oh god I needed that,” he said, his eyes rolling back into his head for a moment.
The ice clinked.
“What are you doing with my curling iron?”
Peter looked around.
She shook her head. “You know what, don’t even tell me.”
He nodded and drank.
“Alright,” she said. “Now you have your gin. Let’s talk about Splorfimus.”
“Is he still here?”
“Yes. And you’re going to have to be nice to him.”
Peter’s face dropped into a pained, open-mouthed frown. “Why do I have to be nice to him? Why can’t anyone accept the fact that I have a phobia of spiders?”
“Because we don’t get a say in the matter. Katherine has made her choice and we can’t shame her just because it’s not what we would have chosen.”
“Well, I didn’t choose to be pathologically afraid of them.”
“And she didn’t choose to love one.”
Peter snorted and rolled his head back against the closet doors, yielding another thud. “Aw fer Chrissake Lillian. ‘She didn’t choose to love one.’ Really? Let’s not get dramatic here.”
She ignored the comment. “I think you should give Splorfimus a chance. He seems like a nice young-”
She paused.
She took a breath, searching for the next word.
“-person.”
Lillian and Peter took a moment for the word to sink in.
“I mean,” she continued, “Kathryn seems to really care about him, and she’s always been honest about her feelings.”
“Honest isn’t the word.”
“Well, aren’t you glad that she’s willing to tell us what she wants? And aren’t you glad that she’s found someone who makes her happy? I mean, think about us when we were her age.”
“We didn’t know each other yet.”
“Don’t you wish we had?”
“What’s she gonna do? Marry the thing?”
“Peter, you need to stop calling Splorfimus a ‘thing.’ He’s a living, breathing, intelligent life form. He comes from a planet in the same quadrant of the galaxy as us. And you know what else? He seems to really care about our daughter.”
Peter shook his head. “How can I trust something with multiple venom sacks that climbs walls and eats flies the size of horses? I mean, he’s freakin’ gross!”
“You can’t judge people negatively just because they’re different.”
“It’s easier than it sounds.”
Lillian took Peter’s drink out of his hand and took a sip of her own.
“You know,” she said, “while I was mixing this drink, I looked him up on Spacebook. He seems to come from a really good family on Taratulon. In fact, his mother is -”
“Ugh, don’t even tell me. Just the idea that there’s an entire planet of these things makes me sick.”
“There’s that word again. ‘Thing.’”
He shrugged. “Well, I can’t just change overnight.”
“No one is expecting you to. We’re only asking you to tolerate a guest for a short period of time.”
“I just don’t think I can do it. I’m not prepared for this.”
She handed him back the drink. “We are never ready for change,” she said. “But it’s happening all the time. Whether you or I like it or not, Tarantuloids live on this planet with us. They go to our schools. We do business with them. They’re going to be part of all of our lives now. I don’t find them particularly pleasant either, but I can’t deny that they contribute. We can’t shun them just because we don’t like how they look.”
Peter took a deep swig of alcohol. “Sometimes I think Kathryn does things like this just to upset me.”
Lillian nodded. “She probably does. But you are her father, and you have to be the bigger person. Show her that you can handle it. I know she respects you.”
“Why do I have to earn my daughter’s respect.”
Lillian gave him a bored look. “Because that’s the game.”
“And if I don’t play?”
“Then she’ll marry the thing.”
Peter clenched his eyes shut in disgust. “Ok, ok. Fine. I’ll play along. I think I can keep it together this time.”
“Good. I’ll help get Kathryn and Splorfimus settled. Dinner is in thirty minutes.”
“Can I wear the bag?”
“If you must. But you will need to apologize to Splorfimus.”
“Ok, fine. Just don’t make me shake hands.”
“Of course not. I don’t think the family could handle that.”
She stood. “And you’ll have to apologize to Kathryn, too, but that can wait until you have some one-on-one time.”
“Do I get an apology?”
“Yes, but probably not until she’s thirty-five.”
She left before Peter could respond.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, Kathryn, Splorfimus, and Lillian sat at the dining room table. Peter arrived last, feeling his way along the wall with the bag over his head. Lillian stood up and guided him over to the seat next to her, opposite Kathryn and diagonal from Splorfimus.
The four of them sat in silence until Lillian nudged Peter with her elbow.
He cleared his throat.
“Um, Splorfimus,” he said, “I believe I owe you an apology. My behavior earlier was truly uncalled for.”
“Oh my god,” Kathryn said, rolling her eyes. “Mom totally put you up to making this apology. It’s so disingenuine.”
“Kathryn, let your father speak,” Lillian said, giving her daughter a firm stare.
Kathryn fell silent.
Peter continued. “I know that it’s no excuse, but I’ve had a powerful phobia of spiders since I was very young. Now, I know - tarantuloids are distinctly different from the spiders here on Earth, but my brain seems unable to process that difference. That’s just my own ignorance. I admit that I let my fear get to me earlier and I said some things that I really should not have said. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I am hoping that we can start over.”
“Oh, please Mr. Smegg, no apology is necessary,” Splorfimus gurbled. “I understand that the phobia of spiders is common on Earth and well predates our arrival on this planet. I thank you for inviting me to your home.”
Peter’s shoulders tensed. “We’re, uh, glad to have you.”
Lillian reached over and took Peter’s hand. Her fingers felt like spider legs landing on his skin. He jumped in his seat and jerked his hand away. The paper bag rustled on his head.
Lillian pulled her hand back, frowning at the bag.
“Well,” she said, turning back to Kathryn and Splorfimus. “Dinner is ready. The kitchen made something very special for tonight.”
“I sure did!” said the home AI unit, its cheery voice coming through the dining room speakers. Four holes opened in the table like the lense of a camera. With a whirr, a domed platter emerged from each hole.
“Since we have an interesting blend of dietary requirements this evening,” said the AI, “I had to come up with something that was a happy medium between two very different galactic cuisines. I think you’ll all be very pleased with the result. Here we go!”
With a higher pitched whirr, the metal domes began to retract in half, revealing the dinner underneath. Steam hissed upward as the domes disappeared into the table. Lillian, Kathryn, and Splorfimus watched wide-eyed. Inside the bag, Peter could feel himself beginning to sweat.
When the steam cleared, the food came into view.
“Ladies and gentlethings,” said the AI. “If you will turn your attention to platter one. Here we have Farvonian swamp mollusk stuffed with grub-beetle cabbage slaw and collard greens. Do be careful when cutting the swamp mollusk as the membranes of its internal gastrobags preserve its waste fumes well after death and char-broiling.”
Lillian and Kathryn stared with bulging eyes at the carcass of the roasted extraterrestrial swamp critter. Splorfimus began to excrete drool from behind his fangs.
“Oooooohhhhh,” he groaned, his eyes brightening with joy. “I haven’t had swamp mollusk in ages! This looks just like my mother used to make.”
Peter could feel his stomach lurching. He took a deep breath.
“Going clockwise,” continued the AI, “are skewered tempura slugmites from the Garvigan system, braised in a curdled gila monster blood sauce, and served on a bed of ethically harvested skunk and raccoon hair.”
Lillian felt herself begin to vomit but managed to stop herself.
Splorfimus wiggled on his thorax in delight. “Heeeeeeeeeeeeee chikchickchik,” he hissed and giggled with undeniable happiness.
Kathryn stared at him in terror.
“Next up,” chirped the AI, “is a vegetable medley of potatoes, green beans, and brussel sprouts -”
Peter, Lillian, and Kathryn felt their hearts fill with hope.
“- glazed in cockroach shit-butter and seasoned with flakes of spiced bat placenta.”
The three humans felt their insides churn and their eyes water.
Splorfimus inhaled a deep gust of the exotic scents. He sighed with satisfaction, then nudged Kathryn with one of his many elbows.
“Sure beats the dining hall, amirite?”
Kathryn attempted a weak nod, but failed.
“And finally,” said the AI, “as a simple palette cleanser between dishes, we have a traditional baked ziti with mozzarella, tomato sauce, garlic, basil, and Italian sausage. Sorry to be so basic with this last one, but our supplier ran out of Crawbirian fly gizzards for the five-insect souffle. GalactiCorp Food Services apologizes for this inconvenience.”
“Oh thank Christ,” Lillian whispered to herself, a bead a sweat sliding down her forehead.
Soothed by the scent of the garlic, Peter reached over and touched Lillian’s arm to indicate his favor for the final dish. She jumped with squeamishness at his touch, and he pulled back his hand.
Splorfimus winced at the sight of the baked ziti. “Ugh, no thank you. Forgive me, I suppose I’m not the biggest fan of cheese.”
“Um, that’s, uh, ok, Fuzzybear,” said Kathryn. “I’m sure someone will -”
She noticed Lillian already dishing Peter some of the delectable pasta.
“Um, mother,” she said, growing cross, “don’t you think we should say grace before we eat?”
Lillian froze. “Um, yes. Yes, I suppose we should.”
She set the spoon down in the cheesy gunk. “Would you like to lead us, Kathryn?”
“I could, but, actually, Splorfimus knows a really beautiful tarantuloid prayer that they say before family dinners. Do you think you could say it for us, Splorfy?”
Splorfimus shrugged with modesty. “Oh, gosh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“It’s no imposition at all,” said Kathryn. “I think we would all really love to hear it.”
Splorfimus looked at Lillian.
“Oh, yes,” Lillian said. “I think that would be really nice.”
Splorfimus twitched his fangs. “Well, ok. I’ll do the English version. It’s a rough translation, but it’s basically the same thing. The version in my native Tarantulese contains frequencies that may shatter these lovely floral plates, as well as rupture your internal organs.”
“Do the English one,” said Peter.
Splorfimus took a deep breath and raised all eight of his appendages, four off the floor and four off the table. He balanced on his thorax and touched the tips of each leg to its opposite in a praying position, aligning them one above the other. He looked up at the ceiling.
Lillian, Kathryn, and Peter folded their hands. Peter bowed his head a few degrees. The two women did not stop staring at their guest.
Splorfimus began.
“Oh Goddess Blindofimaar, She of A Billion Legs, we thank you for this delicious feast that has been harvested from the planets that hang in your galaxy like so many egg sacs in your universal web. We thank you for our families, whose numbers are unknown, but who reproduce in multitudes thanks to your power and grace.”
Lillian found her eyes hovering from Splorfimus to the baked ziti. The spoon lay where she had left it.
“And we thank you for our new friends, whom we may catch in our webs of friendship and spin into silken burritos, then puncture them with our fangs and suck out the juices of love. All metaphorically, of course.”
Lillian looked up at Kathryn, who also stared at the baked ziti. They locked eyes.
“And finally, we thank you, oh Goddess, for our beautiful Tarantulon; for it’s steaming jungles and its craggy mountains and its various damp locations that provide the perfect habitat for our people. Thank you oh so much, Goddess Blindofimaar, and grant us peace with our neighbors for this and all time. Have a good evening.”
Splorfimus withdrew from his praying position and returned four of his legs to the floor. He brought his gaze back down to the family just as Peter brought his head up and Kathryn and Lillian both reached for the ziti spoon at the same time. Lillian grabbed it first and used it to swat Kathryn’s hand away.
“Ow,” Kathryn whispered.
The four of them began to eat. Peter, Lillian, and Kathryn portioned out the ziti into three equal amounts, and Peter managed to bring food up into the bag. Splorfimus tore off a piece of the swamp mollusk and separated his two largest fangs to reveal a maw of thorny teeth. He devoured the mollusk’s tentacles and a few of its eyes in one savory gulp.
Lillian attempted to forget the image as soon as possible.
“So, Splorfimus,” she said. “Pardon my ignorance, but I know so little about Tarantulon. What is it like this time of year?”
“Ah, yes,” said Splorfimus, wiping his mouth bristles with the cloth napkin. The napkin picked up a greenish residue and began to smoke. Small holes burned through the material. “My home is very fine this time of year. My family lives in the capital city, Bivvurp, which is located in the Western Jungles. It’s very humid and rainy at this time.”
“I see. Is it a big city?”
“Oh yes, many millions of Tarantuloids live there.”
“Does your family live in a house or an apartment?”
“Neither. Bivvurp is a network of caves.”
“Huh.”
“Most Tarantuloids in Bivvurp live in the Central Mound, which is above ground amid the jungle, but the connecting tunnels go deep into the planet. No one knows how far down.”
“How’s the rent,” asked Peter.
Splorfimus chuckled. “That depends on how close you want to live to the communal feces reservoir. If you want to live near that, it’s gonna cost you.”
Peter made a burping sound.
“Um, Splorfy,” said Kathryn, “I think you told me that Bivvurp is actually a very sacred place.”
“Oh, yes, very much so. We in the Western Jungles believe that Blindofimaar, the first of our kind, used her billion legs to tunnel into the ground. When she reached the center of the planet, she gave birth to the first generation of Tarantuloids. When they hatched, they searched for an exit to return to the surface. They found the tunnels that led them to Bivvurp, where they emerged and then expanded to all parts of the planet. The temperatures of the Western Jungles are the reason that we enjoy swamp food so much.”
Lillian glanced at the swamp mollusk. Its dead eyes stared at her.
“Of course,” continued Splorfimus, “this pattern of belief is not shared by all Tarantuloids. The Tarantuloids of the city of Kivverp, which is in the Eastern Mountains, believe that Blindofimaar had a billion eyes instead of a billion legs. She climbed to the top of the highest mountain because she wanted to see the whole world, and there she found the chasms of Kivverp, where she laid her eggs. When they hatched, they climbed down the mountain and went to all parts of the planet. The frosty temperatures of the mountains are why we have such warm, furry coats.”
One of the eyes of the mollusk fell out.
“That’s so interesting,” said Kathryn. “In my History of Arthropology class this semester, we learned about the history of Tarantulon and how they reconciled this great question. It was so fascinating. Tell them about that part, Splorfimus.”
Splorfimus adjusted himself in his chair. “Well, for centuries, billions died in civil war over the question of whether Blindofimaar had a billion legs or a billion eyes. Now we realize that we have more to gain by cooperating for the sake of intergalactic business. Many Tarantuloids have become very wealthy in recent years. My parents encouraged me to major in business rather than trench warfare. That industry just isn’t what it used to be.”
He ripped another piece off of the mollusk.
“Our planet is now at peace,” he continued, “and we are happy. Of course, all of us in the Western Jungles know that our understanding of Blindofimaar is the one true faith. According to archeologists, the chasms of Kivverp are actually the hole that Blindofimaar dug to the center of Tarantulon, shortly before the Taratuloids emerged from the caves of Bivvurp.” He shrugged. “But hey, we know the Tarantuloids of Kivvurp aren’t as smart as we from Bivvurp, so we’re just going to let them believe whatever they want to believe. They are beings of small brains and high passions, unlike we sophisticated Tarantuloids of Bivvurp.”
Kathryn put a hand on one of Splorfimus’s arms and turned to her parents.
“We can learn so much from them,” she said, her eyes full of hope.
Lillian swallowed. “Is your family’s cave, um -”
She thought.
“- cozy?”
Splorfimus smiled. “Oh, yes it is. I was born in that cave with all twenty-seven of my siblings. My mother saved each of our egg sacs and sewed our names onto them. She keeps them in our nest, hanging up around the fire pit. The surrounding jungle is great if you love humidity and carnivorous plants.”
“I’m thinking I want to study abroad on Tarantulon next semester,” Kathryn said. “Dr. Merkizz’s class is going and she asked if I would be interested. I couldn’t say no.”
Peter stopped in mid-attempt to bring his fork under the bag. “You couldn’t say no? As in, you said yes?”
“Yeah.”
“This is the first we’re hearing about this.”
“I was going to tell you before you freaked out.”
“This is big news,” Lillian said. “When is this supposed to happen?”
“Well, the trip will be for the whole semester, so we’ll be leaving for Tarantulon the day after the semester starts, which is in about three weeks.”
“We need to discuss this,” said Peter. “Only three weeks?”
“I’ve already registered for the class. Don’t worry - I’ll be fine. Tarantulon is a totally safe planet. Statistically, it’s even safer than Earth.”
“By what metric?” said Lillian.
Kathryn rolled her eyes. “Um, like, way less crime? And, also, everyone has a job, so there’s no unemployment? I mean, seriously. If we had forced labor here on Earth just like they do on Tarantulon, there would be no crime here either. Humans are so uncivilized.”
“I don’t know how I feel about this,” said Lillian. “Kathryn, we really need to talk about this further.”
Kathryn grew frustrated. “What’s there to talk about? I’ve made up my mind and I’m going. Splorfimus will be there, too. He’s getting credit to go as a native advisor.”
“You can’t go,” Peter said.
“What?”
“We’re the ones who pay the tuition, so we get a say in this. You can choose any other class, but not this one.”
“That’s not fair!”
“Fair is not the point,” said Lillian. “This is just too much to take on right now.”
“But Dr. Merkizz wants me to go! And I’ll stay with Splorfimus and his family. They’re very important members of the-”
“The answer is no!” Peter barked. “We’re not paying for it!”
Tears burst from Kathryn’s eyes. “You’re both so hateful!”
Lillian shot back, “Kathryn! Now you’re the one being unfair. You can’t call us hateful just because we have reservations about -”
A loud Pop! stopped her. A hissing sound ensued. Before any of the humans could find the source, the smell of excrement wafted across the room.
“Oh god, what is that?” Peter said.
“Sorry, everyone,” said Splorfimus. “I bit into a piece of the mollusk and I think I ruptured one of the gastrobags.” He glanced around and sniffed. “Oooooh, I think it was a big one.”
Kathryn’s face went white. “Oh, god,” she said, bending over in her chair. “That’s horrible. Ohhhh -”
Lillian felt her stomach turn. Peter stood up. “I can’t take it. I’m going in the other room. I can’t eat any of this disgusting crap anyway.”
He turned to go out, but then reached back to the table.
“Just gotta grab my gin.”
At the same time that Peter’s hand approached where he thought the gin lay, Splorfimus reached out to grab a clandestine piece of mollusk. It so doing, their appendages touched.
Peter felt the unmistakable sensation of bristly, sharp hair. “Aaaaghh!” he shouted, jerking his hand back and taking it in his other hand like a wounded bird. “Ewwwww! Ewwwww ewwwwwwww! Ewwwwwwwww! I touched it! I touched it! Holy shit! I touched it! What can happen?”
Peter felt the hand began to burn.
“Yaaaaaggghh! My hand!”
Lillian watched as red splotches began to appear on Peter’s skin where he had made contact with the hairs.
“Oh my God!” she said. “Grigor, call the hospital!”
“I’m on it!” chirped the AI.
“Mom, no! It’s going to be fine,” hastened Kathryn. “It’ll go away in a few weeks. That happens to everyone the first time they come in contact with Tarantuloid fur.”
Peter pulled off the bag and looked at his hand. His face filled with horror has he beheld the bubbling welts.
“Oh my god!” he shouted. “Oh my god!”
“Peter, don’t worry,” trembled Lillian. “The ambulance is on its way. It’s going to be fine.”
One of the welts began to ooze.
“My hand’s freakin’ melting!”
“Dad, you didn’t hear what I just said. It’s totally normal. It’s just your natural reaction to Splorfimus’s excess venom leaking out through -”
“Kathryn, not now!” cried Lillian.
“But he’s not understanding that -”
“Shut up, Kathryn!” exploded Peter. “Just shut the fuck up!”
Everyone fell silent.
A piece of mollusk dropped out of Splorfimus’s mouth.
Peter watched the welts. Their redness deepened. The terror in his eyes melded into fury. Shaking, he raised his head to Splorfimus. His nervous system began to fire at full blast as the tarantuloid started to come into view. Peter stamped down on his fear, continuing to raise his head until he looked Splorfimus straight in all of his eyes.
“This -” he said.
Splorfimus came to attention.
“- ends -”
Lillian and Kathryn took deep breaths.
“- now.”
Peter took a deep breath, then burst forth with a powerful “Rrrrraaaaaaagghhhh!” and turned and exited the dining room. They heard him stamp down the hallway and throw open the door to the basement, then stamp down the stairs.
“What’s he doing?” Kathryn said to her mother.
“Kathryn, you’ve really done it this time,” Lillian said. “He’s in the basement now.”
They heard him rummaging and swearing. “Fucking fuck!”
Then he came tramping back up the stairs. He re-entered the dining room, carrying AR-15 semiautomatic ray gun.
“Holy shit Peter!” screamed Lillian.
“Dad, no!”
Peter pointed the gun at Splorfimus. “You better jump, asshole.”
Splorfimus locked up in terror. He couldn’t move or speak.
“I said you better jump!”
Peter looked Splorfimus straight in the eyes. He saw their arrangement of two large and six small. He saw how they bubbled like oil out of the bristly face. He saw how they swelled with fright and begged for mercy. He felt his finger begin to tense around the trigger.
And then somewhere, behind the curtain of space and time, some particle spoke to another particle, and electricity passed through the air, and some impulse resonated through Splorfimus and set off the alarm deep inside the chemical caverns of his DNA. The voice of instinct traveled up his nervous system to his brain and gave him the simple instructions:
“Do what he says.”
Splorfimus felt his appendages re-engage. In a split second, he dropped down on all eights, then pushed off from the floor, spinning in mid-air and sucking himself onto the ceiling. Peter pulled the trigger of the ray gun. A flash emitted from the barrel with a screeching crack. A green bolt blasted through the chair that Splorfimus had occupied. Splinters flew everywhere. The bolt continued through the wall of the house, blowing a massive hole through it before disintegrating over the lawn outside.
“Yaaaaaaggghhh!” Kathryn shrieked.
Lillian screamed, “Peter, what the fuck are you doing!”
“Hooo boy, what’s going on here! Haha!” chuckled the AI. “I think someone’s having an issue!”
“Die you horrible fucking nightmare!” Peter roared, raising the rifle to where Splorfimus hung on the ceiling. The tarantuloid’s bubbling eyes sagged towards the floor, heavy with gravity and sadness and fear. He darted forward and scuttled along the ceiling into the kitchen. Peter fired again. Another green bolt cracked into existence and exploded through the second floor of the house.
“Whoa, there goes another one!” said the AI. “I guess this party is really turning up!”
Peter turned toward the kitchen, firing upward. The bolt blasted through the door frame, splitting the beam of the house that separated the kitchen, dining room, and Kathryn’s upstairs bedroom. The green bolt exited through the wall next to her bed, revealing the night sky before its energy expired.
“Dad, stop it!” she cried.
“Uh oh, looks like the house it getting destroyed!” chirped the AI with merriment. “Don’t worry, though - all repairs are fully covered under your West Coast Firearms Family Fun Insurance Package, so-”
Peter fired towards the upper center of the house. The bolt tore a hole through the wall of the dining room and neighboring living room. When it penetrated the living room ceiling, the bolt cut through the house’s central computing system, stopping the AI in mid sentence and raining a shower of electrical sparks over the coffee table, couch, and ottoman.
Lillian and Kathryn ducked under the dining room table and held each other in terror. Peter entered the kitchen. Splorfimus still clung to the ceiling. Peter aimed the rifle at the terrified arthropod, but before he could pull the trigger, Splorfimus dropped to the floor, spinning again to land on his legs. He then pushed off again from the floor and vaulted himself through the kitchen’s large bay window. Glass flew in all directions as Splorfimus sailed through the air. Peter fired at the part of the ceiling where his enemy had hung. The bolt ripped through the ceiling and exited through the wall of Kathryn’s room once again. With the loss of stability in the house’s structure, a portion of the floor of Kathryn’s room gave way. Her bed crashed into the kitchen, landing on the breakfast table and crushing it like a rock on a bug. Her dresser and bookshelf followed, smashing to pieces as they landed on the wreckage of the bed. The furniture blocked the shattered bay window, preventing Peter from pursuing Splorfimus with his eyes, so he fired several rounds toward the window. The bolts eviscerated the pile of furniture and punctured several more holes into the side of the house. The structure groaned, and then the entire back wall that separated the kitchen from the backyard collapsed.
Peter moved into the smoking ruins of the kitchen. He climbed up onto the rubble to gain a view of the backyard. Thick forest separated the property from the other houses in the neighborhood. Splorfimus had disappeared. Peter glanced down at the destruction he had wrought. A few yards away, the spider from the bathroom emerged from a pile of bricks. Peter trained the rifle on the spider and fired. The bolt smashed into the debris and incinerated the spider.
“Haha, yeah!” Peter shouted, murder in his eyes. “Got one!”
“Peter!”
The satisfaction of a successful kill evaporated from Peter’s face as his brain recognized Lillian’s voice. He turned around to face her.
She and Kathryn stood below him on the dusty kitchen floor. Lillian looked up at him with fury. Kathryn looked up at him in tears.
“Now you’ve done it,” said Lillian. “Of all the crazy shit you’ve pulled over the years, this is the worst.”
“Lillian,” he said. “Let’s talk about -”
“There’s nothing to talk about!” screamed Kathryn. “You are what’s wrong with Earth today. I’m not part of this family anymore!”
She turned around and stormed out of the crumbling kitchen.
“Kathryn, wait,” Peter called, beginning to step down from the rubble.
“Don’t even bother,” said Lillian. “You’ve hurt her more than your could ever understand. I can’t believe you couldn’t control yourself for even one night.”
Peter looked around. He sighed. “Err. Sorry.”
Lillian shook her head, disappointment emanating from her like steam. “Somehow, you will need to make this right.”
“I will.”
Her expression became harder. “And where did you get that gun?”
Peter shrugged. “It came free with something else I ordered. They’re just giving ’em away these days. I thought you knew about it.”
“I didn’t. I want it out of here.”
“Ok, fine. Do you want to try it out first, though?” He grinned. “It’s sort of fun.”
She glowered at him, then turned and left.
Peter stood in the rubble alone.
* * *
Later that evening, Peter searched on his phone for “reasons tarantuloids are bad” and found an article called “15 reasons Tarantuloids are the scum of the universe” on a website called EarthForHumansOnly.com. He skimmed the article and then went upstairs to the guest room, a gin and tonic in each hand.
He knocked on the door, cradling the drinks in his arm.
“Who is it?” Kathryn shouted.
“It’s me.”
“Go away.”
“Kathryn, I’m sorry for shooting at your boyfriend and destroying our house. That was wrong of me. I just want to talk for a minute and then I’ll go away. Can I come in?”
Silence.
“Kathryn?”
After a few moments, she said, “Ok, fine.”
He went in.
Kathryn sat on her bed surrounded by used tissues. Peter came over and sat down next to her.
“How’s it going?” he said.
“I hate you,” she replied.
Peter chuckled. “You used to say that all the time when you were little.”
“Well, it’s true.”
He smiled and passed her a gin. She accepted and sipped.
“So,” he said. “I think we should talk about this trip to Tarantulon.”
“What’s there to talk about. You said I can’t go.”
“True. I’m afraid your mother and I cannot allow it. When you graduate, you can go anywhere you want and we won’t be able to stop you. For now, though, this is the way it’s going to be.”
She crumpled up into a ball and turned away from him, sipping her gin and staring at the wall.
“How much do you know about Tarantulon, anyway?” said Peter.
“More than you.”
“Did you know that Tarantulon is one of the largest importers of corgis?”
“Huh?”
“You didn’t know that?”
“I’ve never heard about that.”
“That’s surprising. Dr. Merkizz didn’t discuss this?”
“No.”
“Well, it turns out that Tarantuloids love corgis. They love them a lot, actually. So much so that numerous other planets have placed a trade embargo on Tarantulon because corgis seem to be a culinary delicacy there.”
Kathryn whirled around to face her father. Droplets of gin fell onto her bed.
“What?”
“It’s true. A lot of people don’t like to talk about it - certainly not the people who sell the corgis to the Tarantuloids. It’s a very lucrative industry. The upper crust of Tarantulon? They practically live on an all-corgi diet.”
Fear and consternation filled Kathryn’s eyes. “That’s a lie.”
Peter sipped his gin and shrugged. “I don’t know. There seems to be a lot of reputable sources out there that confirm this. I did a quick image search on it and hooo boy. It’s not good.”
Her eyes moistened. “How could anyone do that to a corgi?”
Peter shook his head. “It baffles me, too. I know that our world isn’t perfect, but I just don’t know if I can bring myself to see fully eye to eye with a civilization that doesn’t respect such a noble and loyal being as the corgi.”
“They’re so fluffy,” Kathryn said, staring into her drink. “They’re just so -”
Her voice trailed off.
Peter waited for her to finish.
“- fluffy,” she said, with disbelief.
“I know,” Peter said, nodding with understanding. “They are very fluffy.”
He glanced at the photo on Kathryn’s nightstand. It depicted her at six years old with her now deceased corgi, Roderick.
“I need to ask Dr. Merkizz about this,” she said.
“I think that’s a great idea,” said her father, raising his gin in approval. “You shouldn’t listen only to me. I admit, I only have a passing knowledge on the subject. It’s always a good idea to ask an expert. We must always consult all sources.”
Kathryn nodded, then grew serious again. “That doesn’t resolve the question of what I’m going to take next semester. If I can’t go to Tarantulon, then I need to choose other classes. I might even have to decide on a new major.”
Peter shrugged with a wise smile. “I don’t know about that. You know, there are lots of other planets in the quadrant, and since you’re studying interplanetary relations, I think studying abroad is a great idea. Now, I admit - it will be a more expensive semester than your mother and I anticipated, which is why I said no a few months ago to the idea of study abroad in your first year. However, you have completed a full semester now, and it looks like you’re ready. And I have to be honest: you are a lot more grown up now than you were when we first dropped you off in September. I’m really impressed with the critically thinking adult that you’ve become.”
She looked up at him. “Where should I go?”
“Well, I know that last year you were very interested in visiting Puggoria. It’s a little closer to Earth, and the Puggorians seem like nice folks.”
Kathryn’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’d let me study abroad for a semester on Puggoria?”
“I think I’d be ok with it. I know I told you no to Puggoria when you wanted to go last year on spring break, but times have changed. You’re a grown woman now.”
“Did mom say it’s ok?”
“Let’s pitch it to her tomorrow. If she has any issues with it, we’ll address them.”
Kathryn fought back her smile. She made herself serious again. “I’m still upset at how you treated Splorfimus. He’s a good guy.”
Peter sipped and looked down. “I know,” he said, turning up the guilt. “He is a fine young man, and I treated him terribly because I was blinded by my own prejudices. I know that the damage cannot be undone, but I want you to know that I am so sorry. I will work to be better in the future.”
Kathryn sipped her gin and tonic, then looked up at her father. She smiled. “I know you will, Daddy. You’re a good man.”
“I am so proud of you,” he said. They clinked glasses and drank.
“Hey,” said Kathryn, “that was a nice gun. Where did you get that?”
“GalactiCorp sent it to me by accident. I ordered some socks and they sent me the gun. They let me keep it free of charge because they messed up. Your mom wants me to get rid of it, though.”
“Ugh,” Kathryn said, rolling her eyes. “She gets so hung up on safety. What is her deal?”
“Well, I can’t fault her too much. She’s kept me out of a lot of trouble over the years.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Donate it, probably. Or see if one of the neighbors wants it.” He sipped and thought. “You know, it’s been ages since we went shooting together. Maybe we could head down to Major Murray’s tomorrow for some good old fashioned father-daughter target shooting? We could take the old kitchen destroyer out for a shoot. Just once before we have to put it out to pasture.”
Her entire face brightened by a hundred watts. “Major Murray’s? I haven’t been there in forever! Let’s do it.”
“Haha, yeah! Let’s murder some tarantuloids!” He jabbed her in the arm.
She laughed and raised her hands to her mouth, sticking out her index fingers like fangs and making a hissing sound.
“Kkkkkkkhhhhhhh!” she said, wiggling her fingers.
Peter laughed. “You’re horrible.”
She winked and said, “Where do you think I get it?”
* * *
Lillian watched the insurance company drones repair the holes in the house. They scuttled around with their eight legs, repairing the house’s internal structure and then secreting the gunky instant-dry superplaster that composed the walls. Paint drones followed close behind. She felt the night breeze.
After some time, she exited the kitchen and ascended the stairs. She passed the guest room door on the way to her and Peter’s room. Peter and Kathryn murmured about something, but Lillian couldn’t make out the words.
In her bathroom, she tapped her right earring and the two pieces of jewelry detached from her ears and floated back into the jewelry box. She looked at herself in the mirror. She imagined how she would look with eight eyes. Kathryn’s laugh came from the guest room, followed by Peter’s. As Lillian turned to head back into the bedroom, her foot hit something that rolled and rattled. She looked down. The bottle of Gurgycep still lay on the floor.
She stared at the bottle for a moment, then picked it up and returned it to the medicine cabinet above the sink.
And then a thought occurred.
She passed the guest room again, descended the stairs, went through the living room, and exited the house through the sliding back door. Despite the winter month, the air hung cool and comfortable over the backyard. She crossed the dark lawn to the treeline and entered the forest. She passed between the trees for a few paces, then stopped.
“Are you here?” she said.
The trees rustled. She looked up. A spindly silhouette hung among the branches a few meters above and away from her. Splorfimus descended on a string of web. She watched as the dark shape came down. He stopped when his eyes reached the same level as hers. In the moonlight that came between the branches, she could see his upside-down face with his eight glinting eyes. He maintained his distance.
“Hello, Mrs. Smegg,” he whispered.
“Splorfimus, I am so sorry for what happened.”
“It’s okay. I don’t think Mr. Smegg intended to hurt me. His aim was way off, and he gave me plenty of time to take evasive action.”
She sighed. “No, Splorfimus. It’s not okay. No one deserves to be shot at with a rifle, especially when they’re guests in someone’s home.”
She looked around the forest. Shadows of branches crisscrossed in all directions.
“It’s going to get cold out here,” she said. “Let me get you a hotel.”
“No, no, that’s ok,” said Splorfimus. “I have already arranged for accommodations.”
Lillian nodded. “Oh.”
“I am only waiting here because I knew that eventually you would come.”
She blinked. “Oh?”
“On Tarantulon, the planet is home to all. We do not think of home the way humans do, where there is your home and my home. So, in following human custom, I wanted to say thank you for inviting me to your home.”
She emitted a small laugh, without humor. “Splorfimus, you don’t have to thank us when we didn’t give you anything. We should be thanking you for not calling the police.”
“I wanted to say thank you specifically to you, Mrs. Smegg. I know that many humans regard me with terror. I know that many of them are not ready to embrace my species as neighbors, but I have met many humans who are kind. You have been kind to me, Mrs. Smegg, even though I know I am difficult to look at.”
She looked away. “I don’t think we’re so kind.”
“I have noticed much variation in human behavior. Some humans are like you, and they are the ones for whom I am grateful. There are so many behaviors that confuse me, though. How is it that Kathryn can express anger to you and Mr. Smegg? On Tarantulon, it is forbidden to express hostility towards an elder. Especially to one’s mother.”
Lillian stared at a tree and shrugged. “She’s always been that way. Ever since she was little. She can turn it on and she can turn it off.”
“I don’t understand, ‘turn it on’ and ‘turn it off.’”
She looked back at him. “There’s something you need to know about humans, Splorfimus. The things that we say are usually not what we really mean. In fact, most of the time, we’re not very honest. Maybe not even with ourselves.”
“Humans lie?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“So when Kathryn told me she loved me, this was a lie?”
“No. Not necessarily. She may have meant it. However, if I know my daughter, then there may be more at play here than her simply bringing her boyfriend home from college. For everything she’s honest about, there’s usually something else she’s not saying.”
“I see, I think. I do feel bad for frightening Mr. Smegg.”
“Don’t. He likes to be scared. For him, it’s a tool.”
Splorfimus sighed. “I suppose I have much to learn about humans.”
“We all do.”
“Perhaps it is for the best. Kathryn always told me that she wanted to come to Tarantulon. I told her that my family would be excited to have her, but, deep down, I knew that she would not find my homeworld suitable. I don’t think it’s for her.”
“No, I don’t think it would be.”
Splorfimus made a clicking sound. “Chikchikchikchik Well, I suppose I should get going. Thank you again, Mrs. Smegg. Thank you or your hospitality and for being you. I hope that you have a pleasant holiday with your family.”
“Thank you, Splorfimus. Are you sure you don’t need a ride somewhere?”
“No, I’ll be fine. I could use a walk.”
“Well, ok. Travel safe.”
He smiled at her, then retracted his web, rising back up into the trees. He grabbed a branch, swung himself into the canopy, and disappeared. Lillian heard the branches rustle as he scuttled away. After a moment, the forest grew still. She turned and went back to the house.
* * *
Splorfimus skittered on all eight legs down the tree-lined road that separated the Smeggs’ neighborhood from the next sylvan subdivision over. The rays of the full moon provided enough illumination to make his way. When he saw the lights of a car up ahead or heard an engine from behind, he would duck into the drainage ditch at the foot of the trees until the motorist passed. When he reached the point where exurb met countryside, he scaled the wooden fence of a small farm and crept into a grove of fruit trees. He looked around for any signs of life. The trees rustled in the soft night breeze. His solitude confirmed, he pulled out his phone and called his mother.
“Hello, son!” she said in the gurgling, popping sounds of Taratulese. Her voice came from many light years away on Tarantulon, carried with perfect clarity over the magic of 26G.
“Hi mom, how’s it going?”
“We’re fine. Did you arrive at Kathryn’s house alright?”
“Ugh, yeah, we got there, but I’m afraid it didn’t go so well.”
“Oh no! What happened?”
“Well, we had kind of a rough time getting to the house. People at the airport were pretty rude, and then almost none of the air taxis wanted to pick us up.”
His mother sighed. “Humans are so racist.”
“I know. Most of them are pretty bad. One nice guy finally picked us up. He was ok.”
“That’s good. Are you still at the house?”
“No. I had to leave.”
“Don’t tell me her family is a bunch of arachnophobes.”
“Well, Kathryn’s mom was really nice. And Kathryn is great, of course. I think I really scared her dad, though.”
“It’s not your fault. You’ve never scared anyone in your life, Splorfimus. You are a fine young gentleman.”
“Thanks mom. I wish I could have made that impression on Mr. Smegg.”
“Did he say something hurtful to you?”
Splorfimus hesitated. “Not exactly.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“Promise you won’t be mad?”
“I promise.”
“He chased me out of the house with a ray gun.”
“What?” his mother cried. “Are you kidding me?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“He’s a monster! A mad man!”
“I think he just wasn’t ready for me. Lots of humans are afraid of Earth spiders.”
“These humans are terrible! How can they treat a guest in their home like that?”
“They have different values here, mom. And a lot of them struggle with people who are different.”
She grunted. “Well, no son of mine is going to be thrown out of his girlfriend’s house by her racist father with a ray gun. We have to take over the planet.”
“Oh, mom, let’s not go to extremes. I don’t think that will be necessary in this case.”
“No, no. We have to do it. As the Secretary of Defense of Tarantulon, it is my duty to order the conquest of planets that threaten our kind. You are a member of one of the ruling families, so we need to take what was done to you as a matter of planetary security. There is no other way to look at the matter.”
Splorfimus sighed. “I suppose you’re right. But could we spare the lives of the Smeggs? They’re really fine people, even the father. He cares deeply for his family, just like us.”
“Possibly. If they survive the initial bombing, we will take the father prisoner and send him to the Galactic Court where he will be tried for attempted homicide.”
“I don’t think he was really trying to hurt me.”
“Then we’ll book him for inducing trauma. As for the mother, you say she’s nice, correct?”
“Yes. She’s a fine human.”
“Well, if she’s willing to collaborate, then she can be chief administrator of the imperial puppet government that we will establish once the planet has been subdued. Do you think she would enjoy this role?”
Splorfimus thought for a moment, then said, “She may need to grow into it, but I think, yes, eventually she would find herself comfortable governing the planet.”
“Good. Now, as for your girlfriend.”
“Mother, I don’t think she’s my girlfriend anymore.”
“Do you still have feelings for her?”
“Yes, somewhat.”
“Then she shall be your bride.”
“Err. I don’t know if she’ll like that.”
“She’s one of the spoils of war. She doesn’t have a choice.”
“Ah, yes. Of course.”
“I know that such a practice may seem unpalatable to you now that you’re a sophisticated college man, but this is the way that things have been done since time immemorial. You’ll make a good husband for her, won’t you?”
“Oh yes. I will make her very happy.”
“And if she doesn’t make you happy, do you remember what we do?”
Splorfimus’s eyes lit up. “Feed her to the silk worms!”
“Correct, my boy! You still have not forgotten your traditional roots. I am so proud of you.”
“Thank you, mother. I believe this will be a glorious conquest.”
“Oh, indeed, it shall. I’ll have the High Council vote on it tomorrow. The representatives from Bivvurp should have no problem. Hopefully the delegation from Kivvurp will be in favor, but you never can depend on those cowards.”
“No, no. You really can’t.”
“It’s about time we brought some sophistication and culture to that awful little planet you’re studying on. This will be good for them. You’ll see.”
“I agree. But, mother - it’s actually kind of a nice planet. Let’s be a little careful with it’s destruction. I think once you get here, you’ll see what I mean.”
“Fair enough. But humans - I don’t know. They give me the creeps. Something about their lack of hair and their beady little eyes. I can’t even really look at them, to be honest.”
She chuckled.
“I’ll probably have to wear a bag over my head.”