Karma

9:48 AM

I’m paralyzed.

Excuse me?

I’m paralyzed.

What does that mean?

It means I can’t move. It means that I’ve been standing in the same spot for the last 20 minutes.

Aren’t you supposed to be working?

That was indeed the plan. But now I’m paralyzed.

No you’re not.

I am! The creature has me cornered, and the fear is paralyzing.

Jesus.

Yes. Jesus. Though I don’t believe even He could help me now.

Go work.

I can’t move! I told you!

Go work.

This is serious babe!

No. It isn’t.

You don’t know. You aren’t here! You can’t see it.

I can imagine…

I’ve been trying to work up the courage to kill it … but I just can’t seem to do it… or to make my legs work.

Did you use the vacuum?

No.

Use the vacuum.

10:03 AM

Did you start working?

No.

???

I still haven’t done it.

10:05 AM

I’m nearly in tears.

10:07 AM

I think I might be having a small panic attack.

Where is it?

My chest, I guess? My legs are sort of tingling… and paralyzed.

???????

Oh! Haha… in the window frame, like by the latch. He’s built a little cone web and he’s crouching inside… lying in wait, if you will.

I will not.

He’s so fucking creepy, babe.

If he’s in the latch he can’t possibly be that big.

He’s huge! And terrifying. He keeps reaching his little legs out at me when I get close with the book. And hissing.

He’s hissing?

Yes.

You’re full of lies.

How dare you.

Which book are you using?

Bleak House... I needed something heavy. Also, it seemed fitting.

Don’t use a book.

Why?

It’s messy.

I’ll clean it.

I’ve seen the way you clean.

It’s moot anyway. I can’t get a good angle.

So?

There’s too much room for error.

Just leave him. I’ll kill him when I come home.

Leave him?! Are you insane?! How could I get anything done knowing that he’s watching me? What if he decides to seek me out? What if he tries to finish me before I can finish him? What if he runs and I lose track of him, and then he throttles me in my sleep? No. No, there is too much danger in leaving him.

My apologies. I didn’t understand the risks.

Clearly.

Why didn’t you use the vacuum?

I just couldn’t.

10:23 AM

It’s done.

Just now?

I had to incapacitate him with Lysol before I could act.

Oh god, babe.

The problem, you see, is that every time l imagined killing him, I saw his miraculous survival. I saw the book lifting to reveal his creepy, little exoskeleton still intact; strengthened by his brush with death and hungry for vengeance.

Why is this happening right now?

I saw him riding the tunnel of air past the vacuum and into my face. I saw him scuttling away from me with an impossible speed, lost, beyond my reach and still capable of plotting.

Have you started working yet?

It was the fear of failure that held me back, I understand that now. It was my fear of failure, rather than fear of the creature itself. So I bolstered my odds with steady and relentless streams of Lysol. I pelted him until he fell— his senses dulled, his spindled limbs still reaching for me—and then I smooshed him. I finished him, and then I wiped away his memory when I wiped away his web.

Good job. Now go work.

Thank you. Though I fear good is somewhat antithetical to the thing I have become.

Do I want to know what that means?

I am a monster in full.

Oh I see.

I feel terrible.

It was him or you, madam babe. What was to be done?

I could have put him outside.

Well sure.

10:45 AM

Are you working yet?

No. I’m crying.

*Les sigh*

I’ll never forgive myself.

Give it a minute.

Why did he come in here? Why did he make me do that?

Oh babe. I don’t think you want to be this person.

If he would have just stayed outside none of this would have happened.

He should have just stayed out of your way, right?

Exactly.

He was asking for it, just dangling it all out there in front of your face like that.

Oh. Shit. I hear it now.

What was the spider wearing?

Stop.

11:15 AM

No fucking way.

Go do your job.

There’s another one.

Ha!

This is insane. Our house is infested.

11:17 AM

Babe?

11:19 AM

Care more!

One of us has to work.

How can you worry about work at a time like this?

Because if I don’t we won’t be able to afford a house to infest.

So you admit there is an infestation?

No.

I feel like you aren’t taking the situation seriously enough.

I'm being as serious as the situation warrants.

Maybe she's here for revenge.

The new spider?

Yes.

Go on.

Like, maybe the new spider knew the one I killed, and now she’s come here for retribution.

Seems reasonable.

How do you think they knew each other?

Soulmates.

No! That’s too sad!

You started this game.

… Would you avenge my death?

I dunno, what are the details surrounding said death?

Same as now.

You mean, If a giant woman gassed and then squished you with a Charles Dickens novel, would I try to kill her?

Yes, exactly.

Eh, I’d probably give it a shot.

Aw! That’s so sweet!

11:24 AM

I killed her.

Quicker this time. Good job, lady ma’am.

Thank you!

11:27 AM

… wait… You’re right. It was quicker… a lot quicker…

No. Stop. I take it back.

I killed the second spider so much quicker than the first. What if I'm getting a taste for it?

I was wrong. It was the same amount of time. To the second.

I mean, I’ve previously only ever felt extreme guilt for the chore, but such emotions seem so deadened now. Erroneous, even. So who knows? Maybe the nature of the act will grow on me, maybe it already has.

So we’ve just entirely given up on working today?

I imagine it will start small. Just a spark, just a flicker, maybe I’ll even confuse it with relief. But the feeling will grow, and grow, until the crunch of their little bodies, the small pop of innards oozing from beneath a book will fill me with elation and I’ll hunger for more.

At least you have a plan.

Even now, as I sit here, I find myself craving the thrill of my next hunt. I imagine watching, waiting for my prey to vacate the safety of its corner, to crawl just close enough for me to reach.

Cool, cool, cool.

I find myself creating new and inventive ways to dispose of them, each more grisly than the next. I suppose I’ll eventually have to decide on a calling card, every good killer has one. But that too will evolve with time….

Can your calling card evolve into a tissue, rather than chemical warfare and spider guts on our book?

Doubtful.

Well at least I asked.

… all this is to say… I don’t think it will take long for me to become prolific, and perhaps you shouldn’t be treating my descent into madness so flippantly.

Yes dear.

11:35 AM

All this murder has made me a little loopy I think.

Are you sure it’s just the murder?

Either that or all the Lysol fumes.

Lol.

I think I’m getting a headache.

Open a window.

No. I shall accept my Karmic reckoning without interference.

Sounds about right.