Johnny, Get Your Tape
The mood was light, the air adrift with the sweet scent of fall. Leaves turning every shade of orange and yellow, a cool breeze wafting by, chilling the burns of the year's middle months. Inside the house, two men in their early 20's were creating something from nothing. One man, plucking feverishly at the strings of an electric guitar. The other, meeting stick with drum to create a solid, yet relaxed rhythm. Paul and Kipp, respectively, were innocently honing their musical skills in preparation for both recording and performing. Little did they know, their day was about to take a turn for the exciting.
Paul had just finished thrashing out a ridiculous solo when his eyes, drifting aimlessly in musical hypnotism, spotted something on a nearby glass table that was draped in cloth. When he realized what it was, his eyelids shot open, adrenaline overtaking his body. "Holy shit!", he exclaimed, as he jumped back, nearly toppling the amplifier behind him. Kipp looked over in a similar direction, spotting the creature. "Oh my GOD!", he yelled. He got up from the drums and moved slowly around their perimeter, joining Paul in a united front line. Paul's face showed clear signs of terror. "We've got to get that thing out of here," he cried, "or it's going to eat us."
Paul instructed Kipp to keep an eye on the beast, and quickly shuffled away to the kitchen to gather supplies. He grabbed a roll of clear tape, and an instrument of destruction, a fly swatter, ironically shaped like an acoustic guitar. Returning to the fear soaked room, he handed the swatter to Kipp, arming himself with a long length of tape. Kipp muttered, "He's in the miniature fire house." Acting quickly, Paul taped the tiny fireplace shut, trapping the creature inside, save for the front door. Kipp leaned very carefully over the fire house, tapping it with the swatter. He jumped back every few seconds, expecting the monster to lunge forward, biting his jugular. The creature simply would not exit the tiny house. Suddenly, Kipp's expression was overcome with joyful inspiration. "Spray. We need spray." Paul did not share this optimism, as he knew that the contents of the house, his house, most likely did not include any kind of spray. Kipp replied, "Any kind of spray will work, at the very least it will slow him down long enough for us to kill him."
Paul left, and returned shortly with a can of air freshener. He sprayed a barrage of flowery goodness into the tiny fire house. Nothing. He tried again, more carefully aiming the can to fill the entire glass building with foam and aerosol. After a few more seconds of this tactic, the beast emerged. It jumped into action, crawling swiftly across the table to the cloth dangling from the sides. It hung there, only for a moment, watching Paul and Kipp. Studying them. Hungering for their blood. Paul screamed, "Kipp, fucking kill it!". That was all Kipp needed. He swung his arm back, winding up for a strike, but something didn't feel right. He balked for a moment, the beast slowly crawling its way down the cloth. He took one more wind up, and the swatter and cloth became one in a single agile, forceful movement. The body of the creature gently flew from the cloth to the carpet below. Lifeless. Paul stomped down with his shoe to ensure the creature's death.
Paul and Kipp both sat down, the stress of battle finally leaving their muscles. After a few minutes, Paul looked up from restful contemplation, and said, "That spider was fucking huge, man."
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