Spider Motel

I wrote this story in response to a writing prompt on reddit that went like this:

"It turns out that spiders want to be roommates and pay rent by putting change in your couch. They pay proportional to their size. One day you return to find two large bars of gold in your couch..."

Here's my take. If there's enough interest, I might write a follow-up.

Sam sat there, just staring at the two solid bars of gold. This marked a definite deviation from the way things commonly went. Another deviation was the pair of oversized spiders sitting on the couch across from him, to the left and right of the gold.

"This is unusual", he finally managed to say through a throat gone dry.

There was a kind of chirping, or rasping sound over a backdrop of a beehive. Then, a little box hanging around one spider's...neck...spoke: "Yes, we know. We don't feel safe anywhere else, and we were given testimonies as to your accomodating nature. We were told this was how you do business."

He nodded jerkily, the tension robbing the motion of any elegance or fluidity.

"Yes, but in general, spiders don't talk to me. And, no offense intended, I've never seen any...specimens...quite your size, either."

Again that rasping, chirping, buzzing sound, then the translator box voiced: "We're not from around here, really, and truth be told, we are a little desperate. So, will you allow us to move in?"

Sam coughed nervously. All kinds of thoughts about deadly poisonous spiders spinning around in his head. And spiders the size of grown dogs could probably kill a dinosaur with a single bite, let alone him. The visions of himself getting bitten, all cocooned up then lazily slurped empty didn't help make him any more relaxed, so he banished them and forced himself to focus on the material. Sweat started forming beads on his forehead. And basically everywhere else.

"I'm a bit scared, you know. Most...inhabitants...hail from around here, and none are poisonous enough to threaten me. To be quite frank, your presence makes me more than a bit uncomfortable." He cleared his throat, then continued: "You know, from a purely business point of view, I'm not sure I could accept your proposal. You're grossly overpaying, and it just wouldn't feel fair."

More rasping: "Yes, about that."

The words sent a chill down Sam's spine. He was in his early thirties, so not old by any means, but these words were never followed by anything good.

"Sam - may we call you Sam?" Another jerky nod. "Sam, we want to be completely truthful with you. When we said we weren't from around here, we didn't mean this region. We meant we're not from this planet. For reasons we would prefer not to talk about, we had to...immigrate here, and we're looking for a safe space. So, some of the extra pay is to buy your goodwill. The second bar is for you to extend the house. We'll need room for the kids."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, closed it, opened it again, then snapped it shut, unable to even form a coherent thought.

Interpreting his shock as rejection, the spider adressed him again.

"We're sorry we cannot afford more right now. If this is not enough, we could maybe offer a working arrangement of some kind. You see, our poison is, indeed deadly, but it also produces a very pronounced euphoric effect, so our...um...food remains blissfully still during the...er...containment process."

Sam visibly paled, but before he could respond, the spider continued.

"Now, we've been self-aware and sentient for a long time, so we have learned to...control the specific composition of the chemical. In layman's terms, we can produce the drug without the poison component. Back at home, this was a necessity to maintain our livestock in...happy conditions. It is thoroughly addictive if we want to, but it does not have to be."

Sam sat frozen, unable to even move. A ticking, clicking sound shook him from his immobile state, and he turned to the source of the new noise. The window was closed, fortunately, but what he saw almost tore the few remainders of his sanity apart.

Outside his window was a wasp twice the size of the spiders on his couch.

He almost didn't notice the buzzing rasp, before the translator voice exclaimed: "Crap, they found us!"

The translator managed to sound almost British as the spider turned back towards Sam, and drily added: "Also, we need protection."