In 1980 I moved to a rooming house in Manhattan. Three feet of my room was below ground level. One morning I woke up, opened my eyes, and saw a cat staring at me from less than a foot away. Our eyes lock. I’m terrified. Afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. It’s calmly studying me. Is it the Devil?
When I finally inhale, it explodes like a rocket onto the radiator and out the door.
A few weeks later I hear something plop down on the floor, turn, and see a rat walking along my wall. Now I explode out the door. Standing in the hall in my underwear I say to myself
“It’s either him or me.”
I take a breath, quietly open the door, tiptoe back inside, grab a 6 ft solid iron bar, and start pounding the floor. He comes out from under the dresser, calmly backtracks along the wall, climbs up the radiator and leaves. Bam! I slam the window so hard it nearly breaks, and I say to myself
“You are one badass dude.”
There are 3 rooms on my floor. And a bathtub outside my door. I’m the only one who uses it. My neighbors go upstairs for showers. The bathtub is all mine. Well, me and a spider. I always make sure he isn’t in the tub before I turn the water on.
One day I’m rushing and start running the water. A minute later I see my spider in peril. I scoop him up and blow on him. Time and time again. Nothing. He’s gone. I feel so guilty. Like a murderer. I get some tin foil and gently wrap him up, to keep his body from the roaches, and tuck him in a tiny crevice. Buried in the bathroom he loved.
The female Black Widow spider is 3 times the size of the male. After mating she tries to eat him.
That bitch. I wonder if there’s a lot of gay Black Widow spiders.
The female must have some good stuff. I like that stuff too.
I don’t think I like it that much though. One morning just before dawn, I step into the hallway and see a moth fluttering. I open both doors to give him freedom. Soon he bursts out in the fresh air. Just at that moment a sparrow swoops in and gets him.
Geez. I shoulda just minded my business.
Months fly by. Then one morning as I’m getting in the tub, I catch the tiny crevice out of the corner of my eye. My spider. Let me see if death has changed his appearance. I carefully unfold the foil and drop him in my palm. He looks just the same. I gently blow on him. Again and again. And even again. What!. He jolts. Again and again I blow. It seems each blow is making his movements stronger. Soon he’s his old self. I gently put him down and he walks off.
Wow. That little guy is hard to kill.
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