Eye of the Spider

"Some people don't respect our friends, the spiders," Mr. Carlson was saying in class the next day. "Because spiders are so small, some think they are useless creatures to be brushed aside or stepped on."

Eric and I were relieved. He didn't seem to suspect that we were the ones who had gone out to his house the night before.

"Today, we will talk about how spiders eat," he said, walking up and down the classroom. "Spiders never like to eat something that's dead. They prefer to eat - the LIVING!" He leaned over and said the word right in Eric's face. Eric almost jumped out of his seat.

"That's right. Once the spider traps an insect in her web, she binds it up with silk bands. And what did we say about the spider's silk yesterday, Lee?"

His eyes seemed to actually glow at me from behind his thick glasses. I tried to think of an answer, but my mind went black.

"I don't know," I admitted.

"We said that it's strong," Mr. Carlson answered for me. "It's stronger than any man-made material. So when the insect is wrapped up, he can never, never escape!"

Mr. Carlson had changed. He wasn't just a substitute teacher anymore. He was scary.

"After the prey is wrapped with bands of unbreakable silk, then what happenes?" he asked the class.

"I know Mr. Carlson," Craig answered. "The spider puts his fangs into the insect."

"Good boy, Craig," Mr. Carlson said. "The spider sinks his fangs in and begins to feed on the insect while it's still alive. He continues to suck the juices until the insect is nothing but an empty husk. That's how a spider feeds."

All this talk was making me a little nervous.

"I've told you that spiders are our friends," Mr. Carlson said. "But spiders are not harmless. Maybe you've heard of the black widow. She's a small spider, one you might step on if you didn't care about your fellow creatures." He looked ominously at Eric and me. "But when she sinks her fangs into you, she can kill! Even horses have died from the bite of a tiny black widow. So don't think that spiders can't defend themselves. Spiders demand respect. Or else!"

He went to the closet in the back of the room and returned with something about the size of a shoe box. We were all curious about what he was going to show us. He reached inside. Resting in his hand when he pulled it out was the biggest, hairiest, most dangerous-looking spider I'd ever seen. All the students gasped.

"This is the famous tarantula," Mr. Carlson said. "He's getting a little bit bigger, so you give him some respect. You don't try to crush him right away under your foot. You're a little afraid even."

He suddenly thrust the tarantula toward Eric. Eric screamed and jumped right out of his seat. Mr. Carlson came down the row toward where I was sitting.

"You should be afraid," Mr. Carlson continued. "The tarantula is a hunter. He doesn't spin a web but lives in a hole. He rushed out, grabs his prey, and drags it quickly into his dungeon. Tarantulas also bite."

At that moment he dropped the tarantula and it landed right on my arm!

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Lee," Mr. Carlson said.

I was petrified, but I wasn't going to show I was scared. I knew some people even kept tarantulas as pets. The tarantula crawled a little way up my arm. I could see his curved fangs and his bulging little eyes.

After a minute, Mr. Carlson picked the huge spider off me.

"Would anyone like to pet this furry little tarantula?" he said. No one volunterred. "You see? We like our dogs and cats and canaries, but we don't have the same regard for spiders. But spiders are smarter. Has a dog ever sup a web? Can a cat stalk its prey as well as a tarantula? No. We think spiders don't matter because they are so small. Maybe if they were bigger we would show them some respect. Do you think so, Eric?"

"I guess," Eric said.

"I think you would. Now it's time for your quiz."

I'd done my homework the night before, so I was able to answer most of the questions. After the bell rang, I met Eric and Craig outside.

"How did it feel," Eric asked me, "to have that thing walking on you?"

"Awful! I was afraid to move or it might bite me."

"There's no reason to be afraid of spiders," Craig said. "Spiders are our friends."

"I don't think I want any fangs stuck in me,'' I said.

"You guys didn't go out to Mr. Carlson's house last night, did you?" Craig asked us.

"What makes you say that?" Eric asked.

"Eric," I said, "we have to get going. See you later, Craig."

When we were up the street, I told Eric not to talk in front of Craig. If Carlson had turned him into a zombie, he had probably turned him into a spy as well. Mr. Carlson suspected us and was using Craig to get information.

"There's something going on in that house," I said, "and we have to find out what it is."

"You mean go out there again?"

"That's just what I mean."

We met again that night and made our way almost to the house when we heard a car approaching from behind. All we could see were the two headlights. Along that stretch there was a rock cliff on one side and a stream on the other.

There was nowhere to hide.

We started running. It must be Mr. Carlson coming home late. The faster we ran, the faster the car came up behind us. In a second the bright light flooded all around us.

We both tried to scramble up the cliff, but it was too steep. Then, a booming voice, like out of a loudspeaker, said, "Stop where you are!"

We stopped.