Caught in Dick of the Beach's Web

It was the first day at our beach house, and Randy, my Standard Poodle, and I were just looking around the place when we noticed a nude beachcomber heading our way.

I'm far from shy and not the least bit timid, but the man I saw coming toward me made a plantain look tiny. I looked and then looked away since I didn't want to seem like I was gawking. But then I looked again.

I couldn't believe my eyes; the man was well-tanned and in great shape. He caught me looking because when I looked up at his body and made my way to his face, he smiled a wide, full, grinned smile as his eyes were on mine.

I waved and then disappeared inside the house, attempting to distract myself with anything to keep my mind off the mystery of Beachcomber. I grabbed the brochure for the place and read the descriptions of the beaches, ocean waters, and wildlife, but nowhere did it mention a nude beach.

One message read: If you like them long and hard, call The Spider's Web and ask for Dick. I started to laugh and thought that the man with the dick on the beach should be Dick. I wondered, too, if he knew that I was into men.

The rapping on the door jolted me out of my reverie, and I turned to see the man standing on my lanai.

"Hello, I couldn't help but notice your dog; it's a standard, right?"

"Yes, that's right. Hi. Would you like to come in? I just arrived, but the beer and alcohol arrived before I did, so it's cold." I smiled at him, and I knew my face blushed.

"I'd like that. I'll grab a seat out here."

"I brought two beers, and we toasted to new beginnings." I got the vibe that he was into me, too.

We laughed and told stories for a while, and then he said he was starving. He asked me if I wanted to go to his place for dinner. He told me I could bring Randy. I grabbed the rest of the beer case and headed down the beach together.

"The yellow one is mine." He pointed and walked in front of me.

"Are you okay, man? Is there someone here who will be upset that we're with you?" I asked him, not sure of what he was doing. His demeanour changed, and my spine tingled in fear.

"Nah, I'm sorry, man. I had to do it. You understand?" He looked into my eyes and smiled. I felt the net around my neck first. Then, the spear went to my ankle. Before I knew it, I was in a cocoon inside a giant spider's web. Dick was fucking spider. I asked myself, "Can you believe the nerve of that guy? He drank more than half my beers. Geez."

I heard other people calling out to me and asking me for help. I wanted to answer them, but my mouth was shut with a super honkin' web. I had full use of my legs and arms, but I had side effects of some sort, almost as if I were drugged. Maybe Dick bit me or, worse, secreted his fluid on me. Being inside this silk sack was cramping my style.

I twitched my fingers and finally got use of my hand. I reached into my pocket and found my Swiss Army Knife. Opening it to the knife, I cut my mouth free. I fished in my other pocket for my cell phone. I dialled 911 and muted the sound. Always a boy scout first.

I looked for Randy. I couldn't see him anywhere. But anything I did see as I made my way out, I cut free, keeping their mouths shut. When I finally got everyone freed and we were all on the ground again, I cut their mouths open.

"You didn't call the cops or 911, did you?" One of the newly freed people asked me.

"Yeah, why?"

"Everybody split; he called the mother fucking spider." I jumped at the volume and anxiousness of his voice. I called Randy, and we ran to the beach and back to our rented beach house. I got inside. Pulled the SIM card out of my phone and turned off all the lights.

I heard thrashing about and what sounded like soft droplets of rain hitting the lanai roof. I looked from the smallest window of the house and discovered the spider was webbing the house with Randy and me inside it. I panicked.

My lips went cold. My saliva dried up. I dazed for a moment before realizing fire or a sharp and large knife would work. What I couldn't figure out was why. What did that giant spider want with me?

I heard a big, Dick man moving around outside my lanai.

"I know you're in there; where else would you go? And that means you'll have to come out at some point. Sleep tight, snookems."

My nerves were on jam. I waited like a rat in the cage with the snake. Once I heard no more vehicles moving around, I packed our Jeep and drove as far away as possible toward home.

After two weeks, I received a card from the property manager of the place I rented. He wanted to know how the damage was done to his property when I handed in my keys and called him to tell him I left the same night I arrived.

I called him immediately and said, "Initially, after I read your card, I believed I had done something wrong. But after careful consideration, I realized that you are a first-class scammer and that if you don't stop harassing me, you'll spend years in court trying to defend yourself against every tenet you've ever had at your beachside property."

To which he hung up.

My first and last vacation disaster—what a tangled web we weave when men look upon one another with such delight and foolishly follow it blindly to their detriment. As was my case with Dick of the Beach and me and Randy.