By Jane Banning
93 words

My son brought home a tarantula. It's a pink-toed, non-poisonous tarantula. It has fangs. There are hairy legs twitching in the next room. What if it escapes its cage and I find it under my bare foot in the shower, in a dark drawer, or blinking at me from the linen closet? I'll flail out with a flattening squash, not meaning harm. But then I imagine the crunch and the grayish, sticky sludge. The quiet creature would be gone and my son, sad. I can't imagine why boys do this to their mothers.

Jane Banning lives in Oregon, Wisconsin with her husband, son, Jack Russell/Beagle, and Harry. Her work has been published in Brava Magazine and soon, the U of Iowa Daily Palette.

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