They peer into my shower and notice everything with their eight eyes. The Sudsy Bear soap that smells like Florida Citrus Grove. And the matching Herbal Essence Rosemry shampoo and conditioner.
I'll share a secret. I don't use the shampoo. I just use the Suday Bear. The bottles are there in case a lady friend spends the night. Also have one set of fresh towels to never be used in case of that. The bottle of generic 9 in 1 body wash is for bachelor's of the plebian variety.
Another secret? Don't have many lady friends visiting. Just big noisy spiders.
I told my landlord about the spiders. He lives above me in my Lakewood duplex on Hickory Avenue. "They are so big that they need shoes!"
He dismisses me. "No way. It will be winter soon and they will all die"
I'm setting the news alert on my phone right now. The terms are "ohio," "spiders," "death" I'll hear one day how big spider kills Doug the landlord. Just strangled him with the hairy wiry legs that each must be size of a pool noodle. The spider won't move into the apartment. It will hard shuffle back into the walls.
I sleep at night under mosquito netting. It'd an interior canopy of gossamer meant to discourage the spiders. I imagine them dropping down from celliling like a Muppet from sixth circle of Hell and push through the fabric. Not enough to break it but enough to push the balled cloth and its wiry brittle knuckle down my throat. I stop snoring and gag to try and throw it off. Stab at it with the Bic pen for my dream journal. When I get up I'm coveted in yellow green ick and the spider curls inward in its dying throws. Got one. I hear shuffling. I swear it sings "Hello my fucking rag time guy" and now there are more.
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