The Spider and the Lazy Spider

Once there was a spider that let her lazy brother live with her. The lazy spider had no job, and spent most of his time on his sister’s couch.

“I’m going out tonight,” announced the spider grabbing her Spring bonnet; “to the wedding of the Owl and the Pussycat.”

“Well, good luck with that,” muttered the lazy spider from under his ratty blanket.

“Why don’t you do something with your life,” pleaded the spider to her sibling, as she adjusted her evening dress.

“I prefer not to,” the lazy spider sighed.

 “I think next year Pierre may ask me to marry him,” she mused.

“That’s fine for you,” remarked the lazy spider; “but did you know that 1 out of 2 marriages fail; ending in divorce? It won’t be long until the Owl leaves her for a younger cat.”

               “How can you know these things?” the spider asked adjusting her bonnet in a looking-glass. “All you do is get stoned and watch tv.”

               “Well,” said the lazy spider from the couch; “there’s something to be said for eating Cheet-os and watching PBS.”

               “Well, I don’t want that sketchy grasshopper friend of yours coming over anymore,” the spider said, applying some last minute rouge from her kit. “Every time he comes over the silverware seems to disappear.”

               “Oh.” mocked the lazy spider. “I didn’t realize my sister was a racist. He can’t choose his lifestyle, you know.”

               “What?” asked the spider turning on her brother. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

               “It doesn’t have to.”

               The spider left, leaving the lazy spider alone with only the sound of the television. He looked across the room to a Spider Family coat of arms mounted on the wall. Under it, laid a dusty didgeridoo. The lazy spider’s eyes rested on it in the flickering light. Then, he sleepily pulled the blanket over him, and turned over amidst the strewn soda pop cans and Cheet-os wrappers.

               There was a sudden knock on the door, and a voice that could only belong to a stoned grasshopper bellowed, “Who likes to party?” The grasshopper let himself in, and hastily began eating from the fridge. “Say man,” he said through bites of cold mutton, “why don’t you dust off your old didgeridoo, and we go wail in the park like the old days? There’s only so many Cheet-os and television an insect can stand. Besides, there’s some ants there I want to piss off.”

               “Good idea,” said the spider, surprised at his own enthusiasm. “Let’s go!”

~There’s only so many Cheet-os and television an insect can stand, and always, undoubtedly, some ants to piss off.~