The Money Spider
I slowly dragged myself into work this evening, my back collapsing, my blistered feet burning against the soles of my shoes. Yesterday I managed to carry a massive bag full of leads, microphones and some college work, my acoustic on my back, and my violin in my right hand, all the way to college, all around college, then all around Manchester until the gig, then all the way back to the carpark down the other end of Oxford Road, so I think you can guess why I’m in such pain. My right eye looked like someone had squirted blood into it, most probably due to the fact that I am highly allergic to pollen, and consequently, that lead me to jabbing my eye with my finger all day long, and sneezing and coughing and “ughh”ing. I knew work would be quiet, it’s inevitable when the World Cup is on.
So I walked in, my head swarming with far too many things to mention. I sat down on a chair behind the bar and stared. At absolutely nothing. I started thinking about how uncomfortable I feel in life at the moment, not physically as such, but…emotionally and mentally I suppose. Too much weight on my shoulders, I guess you could say. Something niggling away at me, someone digging their finger into my gut. And that’s when I saw it; a little money spider, running around the lid of the tip jar. It scuttled the whole way around, and just as I thought it was about to stop to have a breather or something, it carried on it’s way around. I watched it for about 10 minutes, racing and zooming, guarding the pennies in the jar. Afterall, it is a money spider. How can something so little run around so quickly and for such a long period of time? Yes, I’m sure the additional six legs and the incredibly light body weight has a lot to do with it, but what you don’t understand is, it didn’t stop running around until I finished work. It kept going around in circles. Maybe something in it’s system malfunctioned and it was stuck looping around like that forever? I don’t know. So yeah, that means from about 6pm till 11pm, it ran and ran and ran. Now, I’m not sure how long that would have added up to in spider-miles, but it must have been quite a lot.
The time eventually came for me to count up the tips. So, very steadily and carefully, I lifted the lid of the jar, without disrupting it’s course, and slowly lowered it down towards the table. That was when it decided to travel downwards with it’s speedy little legs. I lifted the lid back up and what was left was a tiny scribble of a spider, not even a spark of life. It had sped it’s way to it’s death. I gave it a prod with my finger nail. Nothing. I let out a small, sad sigh, and accidentally sighed it away. Maybe it was suicidal? Maybe it suddenly snapped out of it’s “trance”? Either way…
I killed the money spider.
