Page 85 of Smut

“You can’t do that, it’s Kevin’s!”

“Fucking Kevin,” I mutter. “Fine. I guess. We’ll. Capture. Him.”

I let out an embarrassing cry.

Amanda cries out too. “Okay. Okay. We’ll do it together.”

“We better or I’m calling the fire department.”

“I can’t believe you have a fear of spiders!”

“Why? So do you! And it’s a bloody tarantula! It’s as big as my hand!!”

“Yeah, but you’re a man.”

“Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you needed tarantula-wrangling skills on top of a massive cock and orgasms to go. Want me to go into the jungle and wrestle an alligator, too?”

“Let’s just…get it.”

I sigh, trying to gather the courage. “Okay. You come from that direction and I’ll come from this one and maybe we can corner him.”

I take a few steps, taking stealthy glances around the room. At the moment, everything from the remote to a coaster to a shoe looks like Fluffy.

“Is he actually dangerous?” Amanda yells.

“I did a bunch of research,” I yell back. “Once I got him, I wanted to make sure he wasn’t a stowaway from Arachnophobia. I didn’t want to end up like Bill Pullman.”

“That was Jeff Daniels.”

“Or was it Bill Paxton? Anyway. He’s a Chilean Rose tarantula and they’re supposed to be docile. But I’ve seen him eat those crickets, I mean snap their bloody heads off. And I know he looks at me like he’s going to do the same.”

I creep forward until I’m just past the couch and I see her head peek around the corner of the hallway.

“Are you carrying a weapon?” I ask.

She has a toilet plunger in her hands, holding it like a baseball bat. “I had to grab something.”

Damn.

I should have a weapon.

I grab a magazine from the coffee table and roll it halfway into a scoop.

We both edge forward.

Peer over the island.

There he is.

Sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor.

But I swear he’s on his haunches and hissing.

Like the bastard is waiting for us.

Come closer, he seems to say. Come closer, my friend.

Since he’s from Chile, he has the accent and everything.

---