Fuzzy Wuzzy

(From June 25, 2008)

Today I watched a large, fuzzy black spider crawl along a rusted railing.  He, perhaps she, I don't know how to tell, was trailing a tiny, thin thread of webbing.  The little bastard stopped and looked at me; we stared at each other, and he/she continued walking.  It's almost as if he/she, from now on IT, knew I wouldn't kill it.  We came to an agreement in the moment of quick reflection.  

"As long as you don't bite me little fuzzy," I thought.

"Agreed," said little spider.  It blinked, that's how big it was.

This is the second time I laid eyes on Fuzzy Wuzzy.  The first time was about a week ago.  It was contently crawling on a large rose vine.  At first I was elated I didn't get too close to the roses, as Wuzzy, as I will now refer to it, most definitely knew I was there.  I'm sure Wuzzy was waiting for me to get close to the flowers.  They are traps in more ways than one.  

  Today, Wuzzy kept gliding along, unharmed by me, and I unharmed by it.  I suppose you can't help but gliding along when you have eight legs.

  Fast little bastard.  I can't find Wuzzy.  There is hope for me in that we have an agreement. 

  No, no little Wuzzy.  Thou shall not bite me while I sit in this chair, outside on your porch.  You shall not wait for me in the roses, or even under the overturned potted plants.  Keep looking for those little crickets and spinning your web, as that is most intriguing to me.  You glide along and behind you a simple little thread is produced.  How?  Do you have miles of little cording wound up inside your body?  Do you produce it as you move along.  Little Wuzzy is more interesting that I thought.  What's the biggest animal/insect you've eaten?  How fast can you move to somebody once they are caught in your little web of truth?  God, please let it be a web of truth, because if it's not, if it's a web of lies, than I am most certainly in trouble.  Little Wuzzy has a sense of humor?  I hope not.  That would be most deadly for me.  Your little eyes haunt me, and your fuzzy body is not comforting.

  This is Brooklyn, NY, who would have known such life existed?  I know he/she's here.  Wuzzy is perched somewhere looking at me, watching me, waiting for me to smell the roses.  No, this is not the time little Wuzzy.  I know, I know.  Hide.  It's is the best option for the both of us.  Rest easy, though, if you take another curtain call in front of me, I won't harm you because if I do, surely your friends will know it was me, and then they will start plotting.  I don't want that and I'm positive you don't either.  Let's exist in harmony.  You can have the roses is I can sit here, in your den of webbing, truth perhaps.  I don't know and don't want to find out.