A: So I’ve got a spider in my apartment…
B: Spiders are actually good, just leave them alone.
A: Wait, really?
B: Yeah, they eat other pest, so it’s better to keep them around.
6-feet spider: I αɱ αʅʅ ƚԋαƚ ʂƚαɳԃʂ Ⴆҽƚɯҽҽɳ ყσυ αɳԃ ɾσαƈԋҽʂ Jσʂҽρԋ. Yσυ ƈԋσʂҽɳ ɯιʂҽʅყ ƚσ υρԋσʅԃ συɾ αʅʅιαɳƈҽ, ɱყ ϝɾιҽɳԃ.
If you can't read the glitch texts it said "I am all that stand between you and the roaches Joseph. You have chosen wisely to uphold our alliance my friend." -- Anon Guest
[AN: I'm not doing glitch font for the story. I may go as far as using mild L337, but that's it.]
"He's pretty big and his name's Harold," said Joseph. "It was a joke on 'hairy spider' but.... uhm. He kind of asked for more formality?"
"I think you mean 'she' if it's a large spider. The females are generally larger than th--" Bea startled out of her attempted infodumping. "Wait. What?"
"Harold's really big. And smarter than the average arachnid. I think," said Joseph. "I haven't exactly spoken to a lot of arachnids. Can they speak?" He had spent his formative years in a far more pristine household. Acclimating to life in the wider world was an ongoing process.
"Usually not," Bea allowed. "Can I meet Harold?"
"Sure. It's not like he gets around much."
In his little flat in the most obscure corner of the housing complex, there was indeed an unusually large spider. From palps to the end of their abdomen, the creature was almost six feet long. Harold inhabited an upper corner of the room and watched the world with dark, beady eyes.
When they spoke, it was by vibrating their palps, so Harold's 'voice' sounded more like cicada buzzing and one of the early synthetic voices than anything human. "H3ll0. Pl34s3 d0 n0t 4tt4ck m3, 1 d0 n0t 34t hum4ns."
"This is Harold," said Joseph. "He does use he/him pronouns."
"Okay. Uhm. This is not an ordinary spider."
"P3rh4ps y0u c0uld h3lp m3," said Harold. "I h4v3 b33n 4tt3mpt1ng t0 4pply f0r p4ym3nt f0r my s3rvic3s t0 th1s bu1ld1ng. Th3y d0 n0t r3c0gn1se th4t 1 h4v3 b33n pr0v1d1ng p3st c0ntr0l f0r fr33."
"You might want to go on strike?" suggested Bea. "If eating's a problem, I know where I can score you some feeder crickets."
[Photo by Carla Quario on Unsplash]
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