“We went back to the barn; I made love to her under the tarantula. What was the tarantula doing?” I’m reading On The Road, by Jack Kerouac (it’s taking me forever because … well, because I’m lazy). This is a passage in the book, and it got me thinking about sex and tarantulas (which is weird and frightening). And out popped this weird story.
I had a certain amount of drinks to get to the point of talking to her. Then I had a few more with her and her friends. All the sudden, what do you know, I didn’t exactly know what I was doing.
We had been talking and drinking for a while. Our faces were sort of close together at one point and we kissed. If I told you it was nice I wouldn’t necessarily be lying, I honestly don’t remember if it was nice. But she was pretty, and I want it to have been nice, so I’ll say it was nice.
She had told me about a party she recently helped host and they had these cupcakes, so many leftover cupcakes, and did I want one. I said “I’d rather have some sugar!” and I kissed her again. She laughed and kissed me back. This told me she had also been drinking a lot. A lot, a lot.
Then I was being led out of the bar, waving goodbye to her friends. She was taking me to get a cupcake. This seemed like a nice thing, but I wanted to keep kissing her. At some point, on the walk to her place, I realized she maybe didn’t just mean a cupcake. I gave her a sidelong glance, which she noticed, and responded to by shouting, “I’M DRUUUUNK.” This seemed like the perfectly romantic thing to say, so I laughed and snorted, which we both found pretty amusing. Maybe too amusing, because I was laughing so much it made me want to throw up. Love is a strange thing, I suppose.
At her place we were kissing and she was kiss-walking backwards toward her bed. I was kissing her and taking little glances of the apartment.
That’s when I noticed Chimichanga. Chimi, for short.
Chimi was the name of her tarantula.
Chimi was in a cage, but it was still unsettling. She must have noticed a slight look of horror and confusion on my face because she laughed. “Oh, that’s Chimichanga, Chimi for short.” She said this matter-of-factly. In my opinion there is nothing matter-of-fact about a pet spider. Although I had to give her credit for not naming it Harry.
Things were theoretically heating up between us, and I was moving around and kissing her, but my mind was on Chimi.
How secure was that cage? Was Chimi watching us?
Oh look at those 8 slutty humans, Chimi would think with it’s eight, bulbous, creepy eyes. ‘Oh this really means something, the Taquila tells me so!’ Pft. Typical humans.
Chimi, you cynical-in-love, frightening little bug.
Wait what was that noise? Holy crap I’m not wearing a shirt now. Touché to this little drunk minx. How did I not notice that? When she was taking off my shirt I could’ve snuck another glance! Oh I know, I’ll take off her shirt and do it all wrong so it gets stuck coming over her head, and then maybe I’ll kill her pet.
Is that weird? That’s probably weird.
No, that’s not weird. What’s weird is having a tarantula!
Focus. She’s pretty. She’s kissing me. She laughs at bad jokes. I like this girl.
I wonder if she does baby talk to the spider? I bet she does. I don’t know if I can handle that.
Ok I’m going to sneak a look …
AH! I didn’t see him! Or her? It? It probably has boy and girl parts. Frightening little creature is probably breeding right now. How many spiders are born at once? This whole line of thought is bad. Stop it.
Maybe I should ask the girl if I can turn on the lights? Or suggest we go to my apartment. Wait, I’m drunk. The spider could drive?
Oh shoot I just giggled.
“Did … you just laugh?”
“I’m just … happy.”
Well-played drunk self.
The bed is probably about four feet from the cage. FOUR FEET. That’s it! I bet it could JUMP four feet!
Oh we’re taking off our pants now. This is so bittersweet. I bet Chimi is calculating some diabolical plan. Is Chimi some all-family-jewels-are-my-enemies breed of spider? Probably. No, that doesn’t make sense. Or does it? This girl is far too good looking to be with me. Just how drunk is she? Does she give booze to the spider? Is the spider drunk right now too? That would really relax me to know that, actually.
“Talk dirty to me.”
Talk DIRTY to you? Like, how your apartment is full of SPIDERS? Sure, yeah, my apartment has spiders too, but I don’t INVITE them in! You’ve hung up a big, ‘hey spiders, come on in, it’s cool’ sign and that is dirty.
“Um, imagine … uh …”
“You don’t have to talk dirty. It’s ok.”
Good. Wait. Bad. Now I’m just going to go back to thinking about spiders. Dang it.
Oh? Oh! … Oooh. Should I go hold her hair for her? AH! The spider is at the edge of the cage, just staring at me! Oh wow, that’s a lot of puke coming out of that girl.
Spider, or vomit-stink? I need to make some changes in my life, this should not be my most pressing question right now. This should NEVER be my most pressing question.
Maybe I could get her to puke on the spider? … It’d be tough to swing that. Maybe I could force myself to puke on the spider. What if it jumped out and attacked my face!? Puke it is.
“I’m so sorry …”
“Oh it’s ok … want me to hold your hair … or something …”
“No … I’m really sorry …”
“It’s ok. Want me to get you a cup of water?”
“Yeah that’d be nice.”
Ok … a stranger’s kitchen … where would I be least likely to put the cups … Oh a bowl … I could trap the spider under the bowl … I should turn on the lights in the room and check the cage to make sure it’s well-built. Who has a spider?! What is wrong with this girl! She should warn people about owning a spider! Oh she does have that spider tattoo … I remember thinking, ‘what a weirdo’ but then I got distracted by taking a shot.
Her roommates are home! Oh crap. I’m almost naked. And standing in the kitchen.
“WHOOOO! HEY SEXXXXYYYYY!”
Oh, they’re drunk too.
“We were making out and then her spider made her puke cause it’s evil.”
Maybe shouldn’t have said that.
“It looked like he had ill-intentions …”
“Hahahaha you’re … dumb.”
“Least I’m not evil.”
“You’re being serious about the spider?”
“…No? I’m kidding?”
“You should go.”
“I’m going to put on my pants first …”
P.S. Minutes after I left the spider finished its devious plans, escaped the cage once and for all, and killed all those drunk chicks. At least in my head this is what happened.