1994c - Wanted

by the Cranberries

Sittin' in an Armchair
With my Head between my HandsI wouldn't have to feel like this
If only you'd oonly understand

Too Many Misunderstandings
Causing such delay
And if it doesn't work like this,
We'll try it another way.

+++++++++++++++  


It was summer 1994; maybe May, maybe June, or maybe July. Then again, it was all of them combined. It was the summer of pizza delivery, and chasing girls, whether they were strippers or Jehovah’s Witnesses, or Denny’s waitresses, or pet store clerks. It was also the year a collection of three people crammed themselves into a one-bedroom studio apartment.

.

The three of us, Hair, Aly, and me, had just returned from a road trip to the pet store and Mark Pi’s to pick up dinner: General Tso’s, General Tso’s, Moo Goo Gai Pan.

.

“Phew!” I exclaimed as I thumped a finger against my belly, “full as a deer tick in autumn.”

.

“So gross,” said Aly in a plain but dismissive tone. Then, we all found places to lay down in the living room. Hair and Aly sprawled out on the couch while I pushed the power button on the 5-disc CD Carousel. It was almost always loaded with a revolving assortment of They Might Be Giants, Police, Breeders, Pearl Jam, and Nirvana CDs. Tray 1, however, was always loaded with “Everybody Else is Doing It, So Why Can’t We?” by the Cranberries..I chose tray one and then stepped back into the living room and joined them.

.

I plopped down on the love seat and threw my legs over the end. Then, I drew them up awkwardly and placed them on the floor. It was a passive-aggressive attempt to show Harry not to put his shoes on the couch – and of course, he didn’t read that deeply into my subtle signals. Still, I tried to ignore it as I sat upright, placing my cup of live crickets on the floor next to me.

.

“You gonna feed em?” asked Aly.

.

“Yeah, I guess.”

.

“You haven’t fed him in a couple of days,” said Hair, “Maybe he’s ready to pounce.”

.

We wriggled about until all three bodies were facing the terrarium and the rose-haired tarantula sitting inside.

.

“Alright,” I said, “here goes.”

.

I opened the spout, poured a couple of crickets into the cage, and dropped the lid behind them. They immediately parted ways and walked about the cage, investigating their new surroundings. Meanwhile, the tarantula (his name was Spencer), tensed up as soon as the crickets dropped into his cage. All eight legs articulated then recoiled until all eight pods sad below his torso and head. Then, he froze in place as the crickets continued walking around. One walked by him and then the other. Meanwhile, Spencer waited. Then, one squeezed between Spencer and the corner of the terrarium. Suddenly, he froze, realizing what the giant hairy thing was next to him. Spencer moved his legs about thoughtfully, turning his whole self towards the cricket.

.

“Oh man…” I said.

.

His 9^th and 10^th legs, also known as pedipalps, were more of furry mouthpieces than legs. They pulled up and back, exposing these floss-like fangs.

.

“Whew!” we exclaimed as we all recoied at the sight.

.

Then, Spencer leapt forward and covered the cricket. As he did, everyone jumped; Hair, Aly, me, cricket two. Cricket two jumped the farthest, bounding against the edge of the terrarium and falling in the far corner.

@@@