Twelve Days

[Al Qədic]

So, I wrote this before becoming a Discordian and learning about The Spiders...maybe past me was on to something, cause now I can't see this unnamed mad dentist character as anything other than an agent of Greyface/a Spider. Then again, past me also wrote this as part of an anthology story about murdererous candymakers. Anyhoo, here you go, forced rhymes and all.

On the first day, you didn't think it much, when you squished that little, shiny spider, with a crunch. You went about your picnic, never wondering when, my little crystal helpers would catch up to you again. You played with your kid, your dog, your wife, laughing all the way. You truly had no idea, how much I'd make you pay.

Upon the second day, you started to scratch your head, when you saw clusters of ants crawl out of each and every corner and from under your bed. The place was full of food, but still, they left. You shook it off as paranoia, even when your skin crept. It was now that my army started advancing, all while you slept.

It was the third day when you started getting paranoid, from hearing the scratching in the cupboard. What was in there? Could it hurt your wife or kid? You made sure to tell them you love them.

On the fourth day, my little friends gave you a surprise. A treat most splendid, and it cost merely your precious pooch's life. I listened to you scream and shield your kids' eyes. It was then that I remembered; you're not very wise.

'Twas the fifth day when I had them stalk you, on your morning walk in the woods. Their little pink and silver bodies scuttled to and fro in the soot. They stayed far behind, so as not to be crushed underfoot.  Even still, I saw your face tighten, when you got that awkward feeling in your gut.

I think it was day six, when they tried to cause your son harm. You saved him in the nick of time, though he didn't escape your scorn. You didn't escape, either, though, while you were droning on. You didn't notice one of my spiders, making its way up onto your arm.

Day seven, and you became restless, you couldn't sleep a wink. Annoyed, you headed to the bathroom, and grabbed some ointment from above the sink. The itching had quickly gotten bad, I think. But no matter how you thought of how it got there, you never made the link.

The eighth day was upon you, when your wife put up 'missing' posters. You ran away from home, because you thought they were close to her. I made them focus only on you, in fact, little cur. All the same, you slept in the alley that night, as your infected arm began to grow fur.

It was the ninth day when you looked for help, heading to the doctor. In the back of your mind, you knew you were hopeless, but all the same, you flocked to her. She shook her head and told you there was nothing for a cure. Dejected, you contemplated throwing yourself down the nearest sewer.

Day ten, and I was ecstatic, when I saw you becoming lethargic. It was too easy, I thought, finding this all to be rather cathartic. You grunted and groaned, as they all approached. With a sad look in your eyes, you became their host.

Day eleven, the transformation was nearly complete. Your eyes multiplied, as did your feet. The fur was spreading, and, luckily for you, was conserving heat. Your new legs were spindly, like all the rest. I think, my friend, I will like you the best.

Now it's day twelve, you'll be small soon enough. You've already been shrinking, your brain turned to mush. You're mine, now, friend; my little spidery beatnik. For your first mission, I think I'm going to send you to a picnic.

[Doktor Howl]

The Spider isn't "people"...I mean, just for the record.

[Al Qədic]

The Spider isn't "people"...I mean, just for the record.

But it can be damn good at pretending, can't it?

[LMNO]

Check it:

http://www.reverbnation.com/thespiderproject