microfiction by jeremy s. griffin

8/8/07

A New Jersey Turnpike Rest Stop Attendant Explains the Effects of The Bite of a Brown Recluse Spider

It all starts with a headache. You get a little nauseous and then you lie down. Then everything soft in your head starts to get tight, and gets real bruised. This, of course comes with a great deal of pain. This pain isn't typical of pain that can be associated with a burn or a cut or a broken bone. N-O sir. This is the kind of pain that feels like everything inside you wants to get out. It's when your body gives up on you, tries to make a break for it. That's why you claw at yourself. That's why you see these poor bastards with fingernails dug into their cheeks. This shit is not not pretty, I tell ya. These guys that come in here with no eyes. It's fucking unbelievable. Fucking spiders.

So after the onset of this extraordinary pain and your muscles snapping tight in your head, then your whole body gets warm. We're not talking about any hot tub comfortable fucking spring day warm, either, Jack. Its your blood starting to boil under its own heat. So then it gets a hell of a lot hotter, and the only reason you don't black out right there is because your heart is pumping so fucking hard. Another two or three minutes and nobody can touch you, you're so fucking hot.

If your heart hasn't exploded by now, that's bad fucking luck for you, pal, because here comes the real shit. Every bone in your body turns to wood. But it's like balsa wood or stryofoam or some shit. Your knees just crack and you fall right to the ground and break a couple a ribs and your fucking wrists. Oh man, I tell ya...Fucking spiders, man. They'll do some bad shit to your body. That pain will make you forget who you ever were, right before you die. Even God can't even do a thing for you at that point. It doesn't matter what religion you are, your God will give the fuck up on you when he sees the way you look. Shit, these fucking spiders. The only worse way to die would be to have your balls unraveled and knit into a pair of socks which you then have to wear while running a marathon on pieces of broken porcelain while chewing on steel rivets until you can blow a bubble. That, and being stung by a Portuguese Man O' War; holy fuck.