Daddy Longlegs Hits his Stride - Flash Fiction by Kenneth M. Kapp

 

Daddy Longlegs Hits his Stride

Flash Fiction

by Kenneth M. Kapp

 

Originally Dewey Longle, a spider, had eight legs like all arachnids that were neither too long nor too short; in other words, just the right size for his body with its cephalothorax in front and the abdomen in back. Like others, he would feed on dead insects or other critters by pouring out digestive juices on the intended meal, and once it had become a broth, sucking it into a prebuccal cavity in front of its mouth.

One day a family of spitting beetles moved into his neighbourhood. Dewey was fastidious and so he avoided the homes where they had taken residence. “No problem,” as he often said. “Live and let live.”

The spitting beetles liked their new domicile and sent a postcard with their new address to a cousin in California: We like it here! The cousin showed the pretty picture on the front to Bennie, who like most of us, flipped it over and took in the short message at a glance.

Bennie, who was a unionizer – but that’s another story, finished his organizing work, scratching his head with one of his antennae, and wondered where he should go next. Ah, that cousin back east. Good thing I’ve a good memory; still remember the address on that postcard. A week later he was squatting in the house next door to Dewey.

He missed playing music with his buddies and by the end of the month formed a new group and immediately started jamming. The noise was too much for Dewey. He tried to gather signatures on an eviction partition but was told in no uncertain terms that since Bennie’s wings were still a bright red, this would be considered redlining, a practice that was officially illegal.

With his mental health at risk, he packed his bag and moved out. The only place available was an old house abandoned years ago because of the hazardous material used in its construction. No matter where he walked, he could feel the poisons radiating from the ground onto the underside of his body. When he entered one room in the basement his legs started to tingle. He was worried and searched WEB-MD – obviously a Web site for arachnids – and discovered that the tingling could be indicative of a growth spurt.

Dewey climbed up to the garret, spun a web in a corner and thought for two long days and one long night. He concluded it was worth the risk since he had no other place to go. He made all his final arrangements the next day, and that night, coincidently there was a full moon, he returned to the dangerous basement room and paced from one side to the other, permitting the tingling on his legs to build up.

An hour was all he could endure and, feeling weak, he struggled up the steps where he collapsed on the old couch in the living room. He had strange dreams all night. In the morning, he woke up, rolled over on his back and stretched his legs towards the ceiling as he did every morning as part of his yogic routine. But something was different. He looked first with one eye and then another at his legs. They seemed longer, much longer than when he went to sleep. He stared at all eight legs, sharply focusing on one at a time. He was certain! His legs had grown longer overnight, probably by a factor of four.

He jumped down with a smile on his face. No longer would he have to worry about pollutants from the ground getting on his belly. Dewey took a selfie and sent it to his family. His son’s eyes bulged at the long legs and he texted back: G’s, those are some long legs you got.

There was a software glitch and the text appeared next to his name thusly: Dewey LongleG’s, those are…

And it appeared that way on all their smart phones. An older aunt who had trouble reading spelled it out: D E W E Y L O N G L E G S and everyone went, “LONGLEGS. Hey, he’s Daddy Dewey Longlegs! Daddy Longlegs.” And the name stuck.

Proving there are ways to rise above adversity that often produce surprising results!

 

Kenneth M. Kapp - Ken was a Professor of Mathematics, a ceramicist, a welder, an IBMer, and yoga teacher. He lives with his wife in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, writing late at night in his man-cave. He enjoys chamber music and mysteries. He's a homebrewer and runs whitewater rivers. His essays appear online in havokjournal.com and shepherdexpress.com.

Please visit http://www.kmkbooks.com.