The Eensy Weensy Spider crawled up the waterspout, slowly maneuvering himself
up the side of the metal pipe, a stalwart meniscus of poison on eight spindly
legs. Every facet of each compound eye was focused on one thing and one thing
only – the beautiful circle of radiant color that shimmered in the distance,
the light at the end of the tunnel that permeated his consciousness, providing
purpose, a reason to carry on, a goal, a reason to be. The Eensy Weensy Spider
knew that if he kept trying, eventually he would make it to the light, to the
Promised Land. Eventually he’d get there. Heaven was his destiny, and all he
had to do was to claim it. "Someday," he thought to himself philosophically, as
a gigantic wall of water hurtled towards him and washed the Eensy Weensy Spider
out.
Like a tape rewinding, the return trip required only a fraction of the time
the initial trip had taken. As he lay on his aching back at the bottom of the
spout, the Eensy Weensy Spider contemplated the wisdom of yet another attempt at
paradise. He had never even managed to attain heights even close to heaven –
for all he knew, the light was constantly moving farther and farther away from
him at a speed he could not even hope to match, much less overtake. It was
always the same – he always ended up laying on the wire trap at the bottom of
the drain he knew so well, the intertwined mesh that seemed like the end of the
world to him.
As far back as he could remember, he had lived in the drain, and as far back
as he could remember, he had tried to escape its dingy premises. Why did he even
try? Did he really hope that someday he might actually be lucky enough to make
it to out in spite of the fact experience had told him that the only foreseeable
future was the wire trap at the bottom of the drain? Why did he attempt the
apparently impossible? Why didn’t he just accept the futility of it all and
reconcile himself to a life of meaningless existence in the cold, dark pipe?
What did it matter?
As the Eensy Weensy Spider considered his worthlessness, he was suddenly
possessed by a thought. A great gust of mental breeze tore through his brain and
loosed him from the web of disillusionment that had entangled his thinking. If
it didn’t matter whether or not he tried, then why shouldn’t he? If heaven
were truly unattainable and he had therefore been sentenced to a life of
perpetual existence inside a dank, cramped pipe, then his life was truly
irrelevant and it didn’t matter if he spent the rest of it trying to catch
flies with a fishing net - it didn’t matter if the task at hand was hopeless
or not, because life in the drain was hopeless, and the only way out was to
ascend to heaven. Instead of asking why he should start climbing again,
the question the Eensy Weensy Spider asked himself had became why
shouldn’t he attempt to escape? Why shouldn’t he crawl towards
rapture with every breath in his body, until the constant spray of white-water
and endless falls beat the very living spirit from him?
The answer, because there was nothing else for him to do, proved a
satisfactory rationale for the original question as well.
Now that everything made perfect sense, the Eensy Weensy Spider tackled the
wall of the cold, metal pipe with every ounce of vim and vigor at his disposal.
Riding this squall of refreshed self-purpose, The Eensy Weensy Spider shot
forward on a ferocious shockwave born of the implications of his own
insignificance. Nothing mattered but his goal, the shining, glittery prize of
eternal bliss, and anything in his way would be utterly obliterated.
. . .
"Aww, mom, it was so much fun goin’ ta see Gramps. Can we do it soon
‘gain? Plee, huh, plee?"
"Billy, Mommy is very tired from driving all day back from Gramps’ house,
and she needs you to stop asking her questions and to go wash up for dinner, ok
Sweetie?"
"Ok, Mom." said Billy, a little crestfallen, as he turned to sludge towards
the bathroom.
. . .
As he neared the Light of God, the Eensy Weensy Spider began to lose
strength, yet managed to continue forward with all the momentum of a runaway
Mack truck carrying a heavy load of ore down a steep road coated in ice. His
internal drive had become so powerful that even if every mitochondria in his
body had decided to cease manufacturing energy in an industry-wide strike, he
wouldn’t have even noticed the slightest change in his consistently upward
trajectory. Powered by nothing but his own irrelevance, he shot towards the
light like the creature he was - a meaningless arachnid on a mission, and just
damned enough to be totally confident.
. . .
As little Billy entered the bathroom, his mother heard a loud squeal, which
was followed mere moments later by the creak of the bathroom sink’s valve
abruptly turned as far open as it would go. Dropping the handful of frozen
french fries she had been arranging in a cast-iron skillet, the mother dashed to
the bathroom from whence the scream had come.
"What is it, dear!? What’s wrong?"
"I jes saw a Big Spider come oudda a sink it was skery so I turn onna wadde
an he wensa way!" Billy replied, still obviously unsettled.
"Where? Where’d he go?!" the mother stammered as an icy, smarting fear
began to creep along her scalp. There was a giant spider on the lam in her
house, and her husband didn’t return from work for 2 more hours. Until then,
it was just her, Billy and the spider. She wondered it were poisonous.
"Billy, I need you to tell Mommy where the big scary spider went, ok?" the
mother said as calmly as she could.
Saying nothing, Billy pointed down into the darkness of the sink’s drain.
"Of course!" the mother thought. "He washed it out the drain!"
She breathed a long sigh of relief and dropped to her knees, arms akimbo. Billy
moved towards her and found himself comfortingly enfolded in his mother’s
embrace.
"Oh Billy, I’m so proud of you. Such a sharp boy! Who else would
have thought to turn on the water and wash the spider away?"
Seeing that his mother was no longer afraid, Billy forgot about the
gargantuan tarantula that had peeked it’s leviathan head out of the drain only
moments before with the thoroughness of which only a child is capable.
"Tweedy bowd woulda, Mama. Tweedy woulda."
"Oh Billy," the mother doted, "let’s go have some ice cream!"
" ’Fore dindin Mama?"
"Yes, dumpling. Brave boys deserve ice cream before dinner!"
As Billy left the room, his mother opened the window curtain, allowing a few
stray rays of sunlight to play in the sink and dash down the drain.
. . .
At the bottom of the drain, the Eensy Weensy Spider lay contemplating the
implications of what had just occurred. At first, all he could remember was the
rushing water, tearing him from his foothold and washing him down the pipe, away
from heaven. Slowly, the series of events that had recently transpired began to
trickle back into his conscious mind. Now he remembered! He had ascended to the
heights of heaven. When he had reached the source of the sublime light he had
stuck out his head, basking in its radiant perfection. "At last!" he had
thought, "The Rapture of the Light is mine! I knew it was possible! My faith in
God has finally been rewarded!" At that moment, a giant being, a mighty god had
leaned over heaven, blocking out the light with his nephilim bulk. When the god
had seen him, it had bellowed forth a mighty cry of furious anger, and, reaching
forward a hand the size of the Eensy Weensy Spider, had unleashed a torrent of
water that had swept him down the drain.
"So that’s how it is!" thought the Eensy Weensy Spider. "God has been
washing me down the drain the whole time." God was not generous, willing to
share paradise with even an Eensy Weensy Spider – He was greedy, interested
only in hoarding the precious light for himself.
As the Eensy Weensy Spider sat in the darkened damp of the pipe, a new
sensation crept over him. For the first time, he had a real reason to exist that
went beyond some idyllic quest for paradise, a paradise that didn’t exist. If
its creator, lord and master was so cruel, how could it be paradise? As his rage
built, the poison began to pump through his quivering body. For the first time
in his life, the Eensy Weensy Spider was driven by what seemed to him to be an
unquestionably absolute sense of meaning – revenge.
For the second time that day, the Eensy Weensy Spider picked himself up and
began the long sojourn towards heaven.
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