Post by weareanarchy on Oct 2, 2016 22:48:43 GMT -5
It all begins with a noise. It’s the faintest of sounds like the clicking of claws in the imagination of a child or the whimper of a kidnap victim whose mouth is taped shut. It is a soft, scrabbling sound and in fact, if the air were not preternaturally still, it would be a sound that no one would hear. It was a sound like whispers or perhaps quickly painting with a brush of a single hair. It is the sound of revulsion and fear. I watch as, from the ceiling a thin yellowish spider emerges from a small hole. It slowly slides down on a silken strand as it nears the pale face of a young man. The man is clean shaven with blonde hair and while I cannot see them at the moment, I know his eyes are blue. If he opened his eyes and I took off my face…we could see eye to eye. His hair hangs down from his head. His eyes flutter as the spider descends toward his nose.
I watch carefully as his eyes slowly open and his pupils contract. He looks at me with a brief moment of recognition as his eyes crack open. His eyes close slowly…and then open again in surprise. He looks directly at me.
‘You,’ he says accusatorily.
I laugh in response and then draw his attention to the spider descending from the ceiling toward his nose. He tries to move and only winds up swinging as he is hung upside down from a hook that I have connected him to using the ropes around his ankles. His hands have been taped behind his back. He…quite literally…dangles at my mercy. His name is Walter West and he is a PCW fan. He had the misfortune of posting on the internet…’The War between Anarchy and PCW is stupid. Just fire those guys!’ I had not been pleased. Thus, I tracked him down.
‘What the fuck is this,’ he says spitting venom…though not as much as the spider.
‘Consider this an interactive fan experience,’ I reply, ‘You see, I do bother with the internet…not my thing. I prefer to deal with real things…like spiders.’
He shivers as the spider lands on his chin, finds purchase and begins to explore his environment.
‘Now, Brother Maylock…he DOES do the internet and was very hurt to discover your words on an internet chat board, much as YOU would be hurt if the Yellow Sac Spider on your chin chose this moment to bite you.’
Another shiver runs through his frame.
‘You can’t hurt me,’ he whispers trying to find some bravery in the face of the terror he is facing, ‘you’d get fired from PCW if you did.’
I laugh.
I tie a gag around his mouth, talking to him as I do.
‘You fail to understand,’ I reply, ‘if they fire me, they cannot stop me from turning up. They have no control over me. None at all. I and the rest of Anarchy turned up only to DESTROY PCW while first we poison it from within. Much the same way YOU are about to be poisoned by the spider working it’s way up the hollow of your throat. Now, Yellow Sac spiders are aggressive and common…so much so that many people believe that they are responsible for most of the bites most people receive in the night time.’
He shudders and cries out. I am able to tell that the spider has bitten him in the throat. I could see the red bump rising quickly.
‘Fascinating,’ I cry out, ‘all your shivering and shuddering has finally upset her and she has chosen to respond by biting you. Your body has already responded to the venom, the affected area has begun to swell. At a microscopic level, your tissues have begun to liquefy resulting in irritation and pain…psychologically, you want to scratch but of course, your current predicament prevents you from responding. Now, to be honest, the Sac spider is really the least of the venomous spiders and while their venom has been linked to necrosis…frankly there is some doubt.’
The look of terror in his eyes is amazing and profound.
‘Not to worry, these are the spiders that bite most of us in our sleep and no one has ever reliably been reported to be killed by one,’ I said as I stood up and flicked the offending spider away.
‘Now, the next specimen that Jackdaw sends down…she is definitely a much bigger bitch,’ I say. Almost on cue a black widow begins to descend from the ceiling. She fidgets angrily, upset, I am sure by Jackdaw’s rough treatment of her with his rough gloved hands. She does not descend on a web…she scrabbles down his legs as he shivers and shudders. She reaches his belly which is partially exposed; he shudders as her legs skitter over the exposed skin of his stomach. Gently, almost delicately, she bites him.
‘Aw Sweet!’ I yell, ‘She kissed you! How wonderful for you! It will be a minute before you feel anything other than the pain from the bite but it will result in elevated blood pressure, chest pain that is often confused with heart attack symptoms…sweating, nausea…although your stomach is probably already roiling at the moment…’
I pull the gag off over his head and get out of the way as he projectile vomits, the force of it causing him to sway backwards. Once his stomach empties I get back in front of him, I pluck the black widow from his stomach in my gloved fingers and crush it before his eyes. I then use a handkerchief to wipe his nose and mouth clear making sure he doesn’t choke. This is not going to be that easy.
‘You see,’ I say, ‘I enjoy this sort of thing. I enjoy destroying a man…much the same way that I will enjoy destroying Andy D. He fears Anarchy as much as you fear these spiders and like the poison of the black widow is beginning to destroy you, so the venom of chaos that we have infused the PCW with is beginning to spread, to damage the body of the PCW…to warp it, to twist it to change it into something other than what it is…and the next organ to die…is Andy D.’
I hear some movement above me and see the next spider on its way down. I get very near his face and point upwards.
‘Now that,’ I say, ‘is the hobo spider. Frankly, there is some debate over the effects of the bite. Some claim that it’s bite leads to lesions and necrosis…others say it only leads to headaches, nausea and a general malaise. You will have to decide for yourself which it causes.’
The spider descends on a silken thread landing on the poor boys nose. The spider crawls down slightly before biting him one more time. He screeches as the creature bites him.
‘On the nose,’ I cry dancing around, ‘let’s hope those lesions aren’t a thing!’ He shudders and sobs as the hobo spider drops from his face onto the counter. I pound it into pulp with a strike from my fist. I grab him by the hair looking into his pained eyes.
‘You see,’ I say, ‘the time has almost come for us to part, but I want to leave you with this. The internet has done more to separate us than any government or army in the world. It’s because pain does not translate into a computer. It’s because you can say anything without consequence…and the internet would be a HELL of a lot more civil if you could push a button and cause pain to the person who caused such a hurt in the first place. But the internet…as I said before…is not real. WE ARE! And there is a price to be paid for standing in front of a mirror and saying ‘Candyman’ three times. There is a price to be paid when you whistle through a cemetery. ‘
‘You will pay,’ he chokes out.
I point to the ceiling as the brown recluse that Jackdaw has just released descends from the ceiling. His breath catches in his lungs.
‘THAT,’ I scream, ‘That is a brown recluse spider and it’s bite DEFINITELY causes creeping ulcerations of the skin…but don’t worry because before too long, the device Brother Maylock created will ignite your couch and your house will burn to the ground taking you with it. And I would behave because I won’t be on hand to keep it from biting you a second time. So just know that whatever happens from here on out it was you and your actions that brought ruin upon yourself and your family.
'
I whistle as I walk out of his room. I can already smell smoke from downstairs as I walk out the front door to the car where Brother Maylock waits with his arms crossed. A few moments later we are joined by the Jackdaw who stands next to me crossing his arms in an unconscious imitation of my pose. As the flames begin to spread in the front room, Brother Maylock grunts and takes the driver’s seat of the car as I get in the front and Jackdaw sits in the rear. We drive into darkness as flowers of fire blossom behind us.
I watch carefully as his eyes slowly open and his pupils contract. He looks at me with a brief moment of recognition as his eyes crack open. His eyes close slowly…and then open again in surprise. He looks directly at me.
‘You,’ he says accusatorily.
I laugh in response and then draw his attention to the spider descending from the ceiling toward his nose. He tries to move and only winds up swinging as he is hung upside down from a hook that I have connected him to using the ropes around his ankles. His hands have been taped behind his back. He…quite literally…dangles at my mercy. His name is Walter West and he is a PCW fan. He had the misfortune of posting on the internet…’The War between Anarchy and PCW is stupid. Just fire those guys!’ I had not been pleased. Thus, I tracked him down.
‘What the fuck is this,’ he says spitting venom…though not as much as the spider.
‘Consider this an interactive fan experience,’ I reply, ‘You see, I do bother with the internet…not my thing. I prefer to deal with real things…like spiders.’
He shivers as the spider lands on his chin, finds purchase and begins to explore his environment.
‘Now, Brother Maylock…he DOES do the internet and was very hurt to discover your words on an internet chat board, much as YOU would be hurt if the Yellow Sac Spider on your chin chose this moment to bite you.’
Another shiver runs through his frame.
‘You can’t hurt me,’ he whispers trying to find some bravery in the face of the terror he is facing, ‘you’d get fired from PCW if you did.’
I laugh.
I tie a gag around his mouth, talking to him as I do.
‘You fail to understand,’ I reply, ‘if they fire me, they cannot stop me from turning up. They have no control over me. None at all. I and the rest of Anarchy turned up only to DESTROY PCW while first we poison it from within. Much the same way YOU are about to be poisoned by the spider working it’s way up the hollow of your throat. Now, Yellow Sac spiders are aggressive and common…so much so that many people believe that they are responsible for most of the bites most people receive in the night time.’
He shudders and cries out. I am able to tell that the spider has bitten him in the throat. I could see the red bump rising quickly.
‘Fascinating,’ I cry out, ‘all your shivering and shuddering has finally upset her and she has chosen to respond by biting you. Your body has already responded to the venom, the affected area has begun to swell. At a microscopic level, your tissues have begun to liquefy resulting in irritation and pain…psychologically, you want to scratch but of course, your current predicament prevents you from responding. Now, to be honest, the Sac spider is really the least of the venomous spiders and while their venom has been linked to necrosis…frankly there is some doubt.’
The look of terror in his eyes is amazing and profound.
‘Not to worry, these are the spiders that bite most of us in our sleep and no one has ever reliably been reported to be killed by one,’ I said as I stood up and flicked the offending spider away.
‘Now, the next specimen that Jackdaw sends down…she is definitely a much bigger bitch,’ I say. Almost on cue a black widow begins to descend from the ceiling. She fidgets angrily, upset, I am sure by Jackdaw’s rough treatment of her with his rough gloved hands. She does not descend on a web…she scrabbles down his legs as he shivers and shudders. She reaches his belly which is partially exposed; he shudders as her legs skitter over the exposed skin of his stomach. Gently, almost delicately, she bites him.
‘Aw Sweet!’ I yell, ‘She kissed you! How wonderful for you! It will be a minute before you feel anything other than the pain from the bite but it will result in elevated blood pressure, chest pain that is often confused with heart attack symptoms…sweating, nausea…although your stomach is probably already roiling at the moment…’
I pull the gag off over his head and get out of the way as he projectile vomits, the force of it causing him to sway backwards. Once his stomach empties I get back in front of him, I pluck the black widow from his stomach in my gloved fingers and crush it before his eyes. I then use a handkerchief to wipe his nose and mouth clear making sure he doesn’t choke. This is not going to be that easy.
‘You see,’ I say, ‘I enjoy this sort of thing. I enjoy destroying a man…much the same way that I will enjoy destroying Andy D. He fears Anarchy as much as you fear these spiders and like the poison of the black widow is beginning to destroy you, so the venom of chaos that we have infused the PCW with is beginning to spread, to damage the body of the PCW…to warp it, to twist it to change it into something other than what it is…and the next organ to die…is Andy D.’
I hear some movement above me and see the next spider on its way down. I get very near his face and point upwards.
‘Now that,’ I say, ‘is the hobo spider. Frankly, there is some debate over the effects of the bite. Some claim that it’s bite leads to lesions and necrosis…others say it only leads to headaches, nausea and a general malaise. You will have to decide for yourself which it causes.’
The spider descends on a silken thread landing on the poor boys nose. The spider crawls down slightly before biting him one more time. He screeches as the creature bites him.
‘On the nose,’ I cry dancing around, ‘let’s hope those lesions aren’t a thing!’ He shudders and sobs as the hobo spider drops from his face onto the counter. I pound it into pulp with a strike from my fist. I grab him by the hair looking into his pained eyes.
‘You see,’ I say, ‘the time has almost come for us to part, but I want to leave you with this. The internet has done more to separate us than any government or army in the world. It’s because pain does not translate into a computer. It’s because you can say anything without consequence…and the internet would be a HELL of a lot more civil if you could push a button and cause pain to the person who caused such a hurt in the first place. But the internet…as I said before…is not real. WE ARE! And there is a price to be paid for standing in front of a mirror and saying ‘Candyman’ three times. There is a price to be paid when you whistle through a cemetery. ‘
‘You will pay,’ he chokes out.
I point to the ceiling as the brown recluse that Jackdaw has just released descends from the ceiling. His breath catches in his lungs.
‘THAT,’ I scream, ‘That is a brown recluse spider and it’s bite DEFINITELY causes creeping ulcerations of the skin…but don’t worry because before too long, the device Brother Maylock created will ignite your couch and your house will burn to the ground taking you with it. And I would behave because I won’t be on hand to keep it from biting you a second time. So just know that whatever happens from here on out it was you and your actions that brought ruin upon yourself and your family.
'
I whistle as I walk out of his room. I can already smell smoke from downstairs as I walk out the front door to the car where Brother Maylock waits with his arms crossed. A few moments later we are joined by the Jackdaw who stands next to me crossing his arms in an unconscious imitation of my pose. As the flames begin to spread in the front room, Brother Maylock grunts and takes the driver’s seat of the car as I get in the front and Jackdaw sits in the rear. We drive into darkness as flowers of fire blossom behind us.