So I had a really weird dream last night. No, I mean REALLY weird. It went a little something like this…..

Interior: My bedroom. Or, my bedroom circa turn-of-the-century when I was still living with my family. It was situated in my current apartment here in Asheville, and the decor was brought up to date, but I could tell from the size, shape, color of the walls, and the curious arrangement of my bookshelf and dresser that it was my old bedroom in my parents’ house.

Characters: Me (obviously,) a mysterious girl who was kinda like a combination of an ex of mine and a current friend, a dead hermit crab, and the star of the show, a pet who will henceforth be known as Tiny Spiderman.

The rising action: I’m talking to Combo Girl about everything and nothing, and while doing so I’m showing her my room. On shelf two of the bookcase there is a cage and a dead hermit crab. I muse over the reason for his death – I never actually fed him. Conversation turns to the top shelf, where I keep my pet Tiny Spiderman. He looks just like the real Spiderman, except tiny. Small enough to fit inside a medium-sized fish bowl. And, as I would later find out, rubbery.

The climax: We have no sat down on the bed and continued our conversation. We hear a strange noise. I stand up and look at Tiny Spiderman, who is bobbing up and down in the fish bowl, coming to the surface to blow a bubble and then submerging himself once again. To mock him I wait until he comes to the surface again and blow a gust of air in his direction. This evidently pisses him off, as he leaps out of the fishbowl, lands temporarily on my hand, and bites me.

The falling action: I jerk my hand away in pain and fend off Tiny Spiderman with the other hand, noticing the rubbery texture his miniature superhero skin has. I scream and ask Combo Girl if I should get the bite treated.

The resolution: She assures me that the bite will be fine, since it’s highly unlikely that I will turn into a Tiny Spiderman. We have a good, hearty laugh. Cue music and fade out.

Fin.

 

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