The Spider Salesman – Part VI/VI

Something was pulling the salesman back to Finn’s house, despite it being too early for a spider to be collected. There was some pull that told him something was wrong, and he needed to be there. 

He knocked on the door lightly, so as not to startle anyone. In theory, the spider had just worked early this time, so no one should be there to answer his call.  Immediately after the salesman had that thought, the door to Finn’s home opened, with Finn there ready to greet him. 

“Finn!” the salesman grinned. “How are you feeling, my boy?”

Finn smiled and opened the door wider to welcome the salesman inside. 

“You won’t believe what happened!” Finn exclaimed, a broad smile on his face. “I cried out a spider and now it’s gotten huge! Check it out!” He didn’t wait for the salesman but rather ran towards the kitchenette off of the dining area.

The salesman did all he could to hold back his anger and frustration; this little twat had ruined a good spider. Now he would have to wait for the perfect opportunity for another victim and lose out on a collection chance. 

Alas, there on the counter lay a beautiful beast, unlike the salesman had ever seen before. The size of a baseball and completely white in color, a fuzzy, fat, spider sat on the counter, contented to stare at its surroundings. Its large, green eyes almost had bioluminescence to them, its abdomen was fat, its legs were short, and it looked more like a white tarantula than a spider. At the ends of each of its stubby legs lie two appendages, gripping appendages like that of chameleon hands. All in all, it was a giant version of what the salesman had seen under the scope, and all that was missing was the nest to collect. 

“My, she truly has grown. You say you cried her out?”

Finn leaned up against the counter with his arms folded, a smile on his face, like a proud six-year-old showing an adult some feat they had accomplished. 

“Yup, didn’t hurt one bit. Had a really crazy dream, with you in it, believe it or not, and then I woke up crying. She came out of a teardrop; you don’t think there are more in my head, do you?”

That’s not how it worked. One spider to rule them all, so to speak. Once that drop hit your eye, it was like a sperm load heading to the egg: whichever spider hit that sweet spot behind the eye first, won, while the rest usually died in the cornea. On very rare occasions a second spider will settle in the other eye, but it was with the rarity of having a twin birth. 

“No, son, it doesn’t really work that way, and I’m surprised she grew this big.” 

“Son.” Finn closed his eyes and chuckled, while the salesman focused on the magnificent creature that did nothing but stare back at him. 

“You say you dreamt of me?” the salesman asked without looking away from the spider. He reached out his hand to caress one of the white, fuzzy legs. The spider reluctantly allowed it, flinching away at first. 

“That I did. Well, rather,” Finn looked at the crouching salesman, “I dreamt of my father that left when I was a boy.” At this remark, the salesman rested his hand on the counter in front of the spider and paused to face Finn.

“Your father you say?” the salesman asked innocently. 

“Yes, and the spider as well. The spider gave me some interesting memories.” 

The salesman moved to stand but before he lifted his hand from the counter, the spider took the opportunity to take a bite. From below its green eyes and white fur, came a set of thick, white fangs with dark purple tips. When it struck the salesman’s hand and drew blood, it also released a dark purple liquid from ts fangs into the salesman’s bloodstream. 

“Fucker!” the salesman shouted. He held his hand tight, squeezing the area where the spider had bit him. 

“Yes, she does give quite the sting, doesn’t she? Just wait till you real back in pain from the memories, your memories, apparently.” 

The salesman looked up from his wounded hand to face Finn in the eyes. 

“What did you say?” The salesman felt his stomach growl and his insides squirm; it felt like something was inside his intestines, moving around at will. 

“You heard me,” Finn replied, a smirk on his face. “This spider’s worst memory is of you, killing him.” The salesman stared at Finn in disbelief. 

“That’s not possible,” he scoffed. “I haven’t killed anyone.” 

“Actually,” Finn raised a finger, “yes, apparently you have: the previous spider salesman.”

From beneath the salesman’s skin, he felt the running patter of an army of ants just below the surface. He began stretching desperately at his skin, clawing out chunks of flesh with his skinny fingers. The skin that remained undamaged began to turn white, and the salesman felt his abdomen bend forward in half. 

“I guess that’s the salesman’s true gift to a lucky few; I get to hold the secret to eternal youth now.” Finn walked up towards the salesman, the salesman realizing that he was shrinking in the process. 

“Apparently, I have to keep your seed alive or I lose this gift,” Finn grabbed an empty jar from the counter behind him. “But at least I don’t have to keep you alive.”

The salesman felt the pull of muscles from both sides of his hips; it felt like being punched on the inside. His skin began to stretch, something was trying to break through. The salesman screamed as he shrunk, his abdomen melding into a rounded form. From his sides sprouted white spider appendages, painfully tearing through his skin, like giving birth to six sets of arms on his sides. These new arms were raw, and the slightest breeze against them felt like a thousand pins and needles poking at his skin over and over. He soon lost the ability to scream, his nose melting off of his face to be replaced by multiple sets of eyes, forcing their way up from under his sensitive skin. He still had his one set of normal arms, although they were covered in white fur. He could feel a dozen more eyes underneath his forehead, under his current set of eyes, and some near his ears; they were just underneath the swollen, pink skin, ready to pop and spew whatever liquid may come forth. 

When he went to scratch at his face to free the eyes underneath his skin, all of his appendages scratched at his face, not just the normal set of arms. He couldn’t scream anymore, his mouth was gone. Underneath his chin lay a gaping maw, ready with sets of white fangs to bite into anything. His arms (and new legs) attacked his face violently, leaving nothing behind but dozens of green eyes where skin used to be; there was no face, only eyes. There was nothing left of the salesman but a bloodied spider, sensitive to any gust of wind against all its open wounds. 

“Now it’s my turn, father,” Finn said. He lifted the spider salesman into a jar and closed the lid.


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