merrymuhsman

Spider Log: 9.2025.7

“The mailbox went boom,” I said, my fingers stretching out to mimic the explosion. “There’s no way I could hide it from him.” My thoughts turned to my husband, how he stood there momentarily shell shook and speechless.

Perhaps now he will understand the depths of my fear. Or not.

Nellie’s face crinkled and her lips pursed. “Huh, well that should have worked.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “I was certain Al and I had the calculations correct.”

“Oh it did work,” I said, sincerely. “The spider was full of sticky yellow stuff, some of its legs were stuck to the top of the box. “ I shuddered. I really needed to move to Ireland. Someone told me once they didn’t have spiders.

Nellie curled her hands around her glass of old-fashioned. This afternoon she needed a stiffer drink, she told me. “Well, Al will simply have to get you a new mailbox. I’ll have him get a hold of your husband and get this straightened out.” She took a sip and her eyes danced. “At least we know it worked.”

I nodded. “Too well. The mail box lid exploded into the opposite ditch. The wood pole cracked straight down the center. I had just turned the corner when I heard the boom.” I stopped, took a sip of my fuzzy navel. “It gets worse.”

Nellie leaned forward. “Worse? The device worked, we just have to mess with the calculations a bit.” She gazed the ceiling, turning the glass in her hands. “We just have to figure out which chemical we got wrong. Maybe we had too many fireflies in the mix.”

“Maybe…Nellie, the neighbors called the fire department AND the police department. A hazmat crew arrived about an hour later in their white suits and gas masks. By this time my hubbie was there, and he thought a bomb went off. They took the mailbox…” I took a swallow, Nellie’s hand reached for mine. “I called into work sick. How can I face my neighbors? My husband?”

“Al will make it right. I guarantee you that man will donate some money to the fire department, the police department and he will turn over our findings to the hazmat crew. It’s all biodegradable. It should be just fine.” Nellie gave me a weak smile and her face lacked color. Even she didn’t believe her own words.

“We went too far. I don’t think I can use any of your tactics anymore of your test subjects. I just have…” I paused, trying to gather the courage to say the words.

Nellie squeezed my hand. “You don’t mean…” her words caught in her throat.

“Yes,” I said the word coming out like a hiss. “I have to squish them or move. I heard Ireland doesn’t have spiders.”

Nellie let out a deep sigh. “You’re not moving, your life is here. Besides, there’s a few months out of the year we’re spider free. We’ll train you or something.” She let go of my hand, narrowwe. “We’ll train you. We’ll find the best ways to kill a spider naturally. There are all kinds of tools out there. Yes,” she nodded. “That’s the answer.”

I played with my glass in my hand. The sounds of Kenny Rogers “The Gambler” came over the juke box. “Know when to hold them, know when to fold them, know when to run.” Wise words Kenny.

“What am I going to do now? Without a mailbox, I have to face Thelma and get our mail.” I rested my chin in my hand.

“Oh she’s a bit of coocoo bird.” Nellis snickered.

I grinned. “The last time we spoke, I told her that coyote snot created fog.”

Nellie spit out her drink. “You told her what?”

I put my hand to my mouth to stifle a laugh. “I did. She was holding my mail ransom. Remember that registered letter from the government?” Concern flashed across Nellie’s face, and I waved a hand to dismiss it. “I asked the government for help with the spiders.”

She nodded, the corner of her mouth turned up.

“I had to give her some…”

The bell jangled, the door banged open. Nellie’s face drained of color, and I turned in my chair to face the door. Speak of the devil.

Thelma rumbled into the bar, her face a shade of red that would make a Nebraska Cornhusker proud. Her arms were full of envelopes and packages, and I lost all feeling in my limbs. It was my mail.

She dumped the mail on the table and shook her finger at me. “You blew up your mailbox?”

“I guess word travels fast,” I mumbled. I turned back to Nellie. “Does everyone know?” She shrugged.

“I don’t have space for all your mail. You need to come pick it up everyday!” Her eyes took on some black stormy gaze. A putrid aroma hit me, and I crinkled my nose.

“Did you have tuna for lunch?”

She checked her words. “Yes, why? Does it… oh God…” She sniffed her shoulder. “I reek of it.” She pulled out the chair next to Nellie, plopped down and started to ugly cry. She transformed from a one-woman wrecking ball into a sobbing mess.

I leaned away and motioned Nellie to sit next to me. The exit was behind me, and there was a table between Thelma and myself. Thelma might have just gone over the edge.

Thelma covered her eyes, and the tears tracked down her makeup in black and brown streaks. Her sobs turned to sounds that were likely meant to be words.

I made out some words, but I couldn’t piece them together in a coherent sentence. I reached across the table and touched her arm. She was damp, warm. “Thelma,” I said softly.

Thelma’s body heaved and trembled. Hissing sounds came from her mouth. She was an odd duck.

“Your fault,” she said, raising her head to stare at me through rimmed, red eyes.

It usually is, I groaned internally.