I stood there and listened carefully.  I mean, you listen carefully when a revolver is pointed at your face.  Or even your general direction.

Frank chewed something in his mouth as he stood in front of me.  We were standing outside my cabin in the woods behind Bend.  The green fir trees surrounded us, bark dripping with the smell of Christmas.  He then spit something dark out and on the ground and cleared his throat.

“Are you going to tell me your name,” asked Frank.  ”I don’t believe we have…met?”

I closed my eyes briefly.  That’s probably another thing that you shouldn’t do when someone is pointing a gun at you.  While my eyes were closed, I replied real soft, “William.”

“What’s that, I couldn’t hear you,” Frank said.

I repeated myself, only louder, and opened my eyes.  I hadn’t realized he was leaning forward, until he leaned back a little.  He seemed satisfied.  As satisfied as a man holding an antique six-shooter can.  Which is to say, pretty smug.

“Well, William, can I call you Will—” Frank paused.  I nodded my head.  ”Okay, Will it is!  Anyway, Will, can you tell me something?”  I nodded again.  ”That’s good of you.  To be willing to tell a perfect stranger something.  Even one whose has his gun pointed at his face.”

Frank paused for a few seconds while he seemed to collect his thoughts.  ”Can you tell me, in as few words as possible, what you are doing here on my land?”

Before I could catch myself, I said loudly, “What?  Your land?  What do you mea—” and caught myself.  ”Well, what do you mean?”

Frank frowned fiercely at my outburst, and his finger tightened slightly over the trigger of the gun.  You can tell how tense a shooter is by how white the finger gets over the trigger.  That’s something I learned online, on the Internet, in some Guerillo webpage where they also told you how to build a doomsday shelter and liquor stills.  In any case, back to Frank.  He was still shaking his head.  Then he started to talk.

“Will,” he began, and lowered his revolver slightly.  ”In the little time that I have gotten to know you, I’ve grown quite fond of you.  I hope that the feeling has been somewhat mutual, minus the natural effect of me, a perfect stranger you have only known for, what, five minutes, threatening you with potential grievous body harm.  I would hate for our great friendship to be soured by petty things like anger, resentment, death, and all that foolishness.  So, let me ask you again, what are you doing on my land?”

It was in that moment—that tense moment where Frank watched me with those dead eyes of his—that I realized that his question was very legitimate; because out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that my cabin was no longer there, and that, in fact, there were only trees as far as I could see.

I was no longer at home.

“Yeah,” Iris said with a small frown on her face.  They were both sitting on old, creaky chairs on their wooden porch.  The cool dusk air fought nicely with the warmth imparted by the wine.

“Hey, Iris?  Hey, we’re almost there.”

Iris took another sip of the wine and a small trickle ran down from the corner of her mouth to her chin.  Then she wiped it off with the corner of her sleeve.

“I don’t know if it’ll ever be the same.”  Iris turned to Jim, who was sitting next to her.  ”Do you remember Grandmother’s vineyards?  Or how Grandfather used to walk up and down the rows?”

A nod from Jim.  The air was quiet for a moment as they both moved slightly in their seats, accompanied by creaking.

“The first taste of the season,” Iris continued with a laugh, “was always so awful and good.  It was almost like tasting the future.  You could read how good the wine would be, right there in your mouth.”

Nodding, Iris leaned back and took in the view from their porch.  Their vineyards stretched over slowly rolling hills as far as the eye could see.  No other buildings marred the landscape.  The sun was just barely down, behind the mountains to the west, and the two moons were barely visible.  Occasionally you could see a glint of metal between softly moving rows of grapes.

Jim cleared his throat.  ”What do you say we turn in?  We’ve had a long day.”

After a few minutes of silence, Iris answered, “Grapes’ll be there tomorrow, and we can try again.  We can try…” then she trailed off.

“Honey, we can try anything you want.  Earthworms.  A better nitrogen mix.  Or even those Resurrect microorganisms.”

Iris sighed and took a gulp of her wine.  ”Yeah.  Let’s go to bed.”

They got up with more creaks, both bones and chairs this time, and went inside.

bang

bang it out she said
so i did and so i did
later that day i did
bang it out she said

so then later we did
bang against the did
i wanted to he said
oh so did i she said

across desk we slid
do write it bang did
insert it in the said
ohh its done she said

“mmmmmmmmm.”

The bed is freshly made, correctly, and thus: a fitted sheet followed by a sheet, concluded with the usual filler blanket and the heavy quilt on top.  The bed vibrated with mmmmm potential energy.  The kind of energy that you instantly know will lend itself to a good nights sleep.

Sandwiched by high thread count, I felt content.  My body filled the space between sheets with heat.  The warm beige sheets rest on me, under me, above me, equally smothering and freeing.  Frowningly, the quilt muscles its way into conscious thought, and I shift my weight to the left, to the right, testing the boundaries and establishing the perimeter; beyond which only lies the arctic, a wintry landscape of darkest night and cold limbs.

Lying still, to best occupy the island of warmth, my big toe rubs a staccato rhythm against the fabric, feeling each tiny groove in the cotton and marveling at how the whole thing hangs together, thousands and millions of threads, strings, atoms, particles, all in one place at the same time, for me, for the bed, for you.  And it still holds, and will tomorrow and the next day, until the dark comes and unravels it.

Cast of characters

Professor FARNSWORTH, a throughly average mad scientist
SKITTERS SLOWLY, his Native American assistant
ANANSI, the King of All Stories
CHAMELEON, Prince of Disguise
YOU, a disciple of Chameleon
YOU TOO, a disciple of Chameleon

ACT I: SCIENCE

“Her slender fingers, hanging on each side
With many joynts, the use of legs supply’d:
A spider’s bag the rest, from which she gives
A thread, and still by constant weaving lives.”
-Myth of Arachne

FARNSWORTH

It is complete.  My Anansi.  My Arachne.  From deep in mythology I have made you real.  That nasty Chameleon tricked you, and then you ran away and hid in all the corners of the world as a spider.  But now is your time to reveal your face to the world.

(Farnsworth walks to a nearby bookshelf and grabs a glowing glass jar and brings it to a high table where a misshapen body lies.  It is attached to a bewildering array of cables, tubes, and widgets.  He then pours the contents of the jar on the creature.)

Come.  It’s time to awaken.

(The creature begins to shiver and stir, and when it does; you can see that it has eight legs.  As it begins to awaken, Farnsworth starts speaking to himself.)

FARNSWORTH

Time to awaken.  Time to awaken.  It’s been too long.  Too long.

(Another person enters.  It is SKITTERS SLOWLY, his assistant.)

SKITTERS SLOWLY

(Hoots.)  She is awakening!  It is time again for Anansi to rise!  That tricky Chameleon.   (To the creature)  Rise!  Do not be afraid to show face!  The King of All Stories should be proud to show his face!

FARNSWORTH

Skit, can you move over to the right a little?  You are blocking the devlo-light.

SKITTERS SLOWLY

Oh, you mean the black light?  Sure.

FARNSWORTH

Come over here, let’s help our dear Anansi to life.

(Skitters Slowly moves to help the Professor.  The body of Anansi continues to tremble and move strangely. Suddenly a voice comes from it.)

ANANSI

I forgive you.

FARNSWORTH

(Stands puzzled.)  For what?

SKITTERS SLOWLY

She’s alive!

ANANSI

For bringing me into this world.  But it won’t save you.

(Anansi flips off of the table and scrabbles into a corner.  She then begins spinning a huge web, while throwing streamlets that entrap Farnsworth and Skitters Slowly.)

FARNSWORTH

Hey!  What are you doing?

SKITTERS SLOWLY

So sticky!  It feels so good.

(Skitters Slowly moves towards Anansi happily, rubbing himself on the web.  In contrast, the Professor is struggling, brows drawn, grunting with the effort.  Anansi starts reeling them both in steadily.)

ANANSI

I am very hungry; it has been far too long since I have eaten.  Your stories shall sustain me.

ACT 2:  ANTI-DENOUEMENT

(In a lonely field near Billings, Montana, CHAMELEON and YOU are speaking.  The wind whistles around them as Chameleon adjusts his cloak.)

CHAMELEON

A disturbance in the force has been detected.  You must go and search for the source.  My sense tells me that it is Ananasi up to his usual tricks.  I was able to defeat him by using his greed against him.  You may be able to.  Godspeed, Luke.  I mean, You.

YOU

Yes Master, I will prevail against the forces of the Sith Lord.  I mean, Trickster.

ACT 3:  SPIDERS

(Outside, in a backyard.  Spider webs encase every available surface in front of you. Makeshift barriers are scattered about the yard, maze-like, providing the perfect scaffold for the groaning weight of the webs.  Shadows move and coalesce.)

YOU

(Grimly, to himself.)  It is you, Anasai.  You are up to your usual tricks again.  Chameleon defeated you eons ago, and you have been hiding in corners ever since, scrabbling towards your doom.

(You moves forward to search for the best way through the strange obstacles.  As he begins to move, he hears running footsteps behind him.)

YOU TOO

Hey, wait for me.  There’s strength in numbers.

YOU

Welcome!  I was afraid I would have to face this alone.

YOU TOO

Never.

YOU

(Gestures toward the webs.)  Guess who’s back.

YOU TOO

(Groans.)  Not her.  After all this time hiding in corners, she decides to reveal herself now?  Why?  It doesn’t make any sense.

YOU

I don’t understand it either.  But we have a job to do.  Defeat her before she encases humanity in a trick, confounding all of our progress in the eons.

YOU TOO

Yes.  What do we need to do?

YOU

Before we face her, we need to gather the right weapon to vanquish her for once and for all.  Remember, Anasasi’s only weak point is her greed.

YOU TOO

Ah, yes… I know what must be done.

YOU

What?

YOU TOO

It is not just one weapon we need, you see.  Eight, to be precise.  One for each of her legs, in which she stores her power. Come, let us gather all of our friends, as many as we can, and gather in this place come Saturday eve.  Together, we will vanquish her.