Deathspider/Valentine
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?
Cufflinks?
Check.
Bowtie?
Check.
Regulation leopard print thong?
Miguel pointed his fingers like a gun at the mirror, grinning.
“Check!”
The preparations were made – Ellie’s condo had been turned into a dimly lit, incense scented den of seduction. Miguel stood in front of the bathroom mirror, smiling proudly at the Chippendale’s outfit he had purchased after Ellie had so foolishly laughed at his threat to wear one.
The conversation had gone something like this.
“You’d better watch out, girl, before I bust out a Chippendale’s outfit and dance…” He lowered his voice. “… for your pleasure.”
Ellie had laughed. “Threatening me with sexual activity isn’t exactly an effective deterrent.”
Miguel mentioned something else and she blushed.
“Yeah, well, that too, but I was trying not to be so graphic. Shouldn’t we not be talking about this here? This cave is unsanitary.”
Well, he thought, adjusting his thong, I’ll show her.
“Let her feel the bite… of the Love Spider!”
He made sure his hair was presentable, and walked back into the bedroom, where the sheets had been replaced with silk. A trip to the adult store had been an expensive, yet bountiful experience. The assorted items stood, out of their packages, in the tastefully designed bag on the nightstand.
Check.
Satisfied with the arrangements, Miguel stepped out into the living room. Thankfully, his daughter, Cherish – Ellie’s roommate, was out all day. Ellie would be home soon, and then she would learn the folly of not believing he’d dress up like a Chippendale’s dancer – just to prove a point.
Besides, he nodded sagely, chicks dig that kinda stuff.
Stepping to the stereo, he pressed Play. Soon, soulful R&B filled the apartment. He had paid an out of work soul singer to produce this for him, and the results were… remarkable.
Oooo hooo, bay-bay…
Miguel nodded, pleased. There we go.
He’s that Love Spider…
Ah, yes. The back-up singers.
Oooo, get you into my web!
Oooo, get you in his web…
Oooo ooo ooo, gonna get you in my bed!
Oooo ooo, get you in his bed…
Miguel nodded. This was good.
LOVE SPI-DAH! Sting you good, girl!
Satisfied he got his money’s worth, he took his lighter from the top of the stereo and began to light the scented candles around the apartment. He was confident Ellie would learn the error of her ways, and hopefully, let him do that thing he had been wanting to do.
With a show like this, what could possibly go wrong?
Ellie, with sister Elsie, and parents in tow, climbed the stairs to her apartment, pleased with the day out with her family. A nice lunch, sit around and talk for a bit, and hopefully, Miguel would come over and they could all go out to dinner! She smiled. Hopefully, her parents would be impressed with her new boyfriend.
Dan Alcott, the long suffering father of two superheroines, trudged up the stairs, huffing as he went. His hair was going, and he wished his daughter would have been thoughtful enough to get a ground floor apartment, that way he wouldn’t have to trudge up all these damn stairs.
Margaret Alcott looked critically at the stairwell, dismayed by the fading paint on the walls. This certainly wasn’t like their place in Founder’s Falls – Galaxy City was going to the dogs, a definite step down for her daughter. She looked down at Elsie, who at four foot nothing, irritably clomped up the stairs. Shrunk by a freak accident in her lab, she was a woman in miniature. This caused no end of consternation between her parents. Bad enough Ellie decided to become a music teacher, and gave that up to flounce around with magic gloves, calling herself ‘Belle’, as though it lent some legitimacy to what she did – but Elsie had shrunk herself down, called herself ‘Teensy’, and ran around with a bow and arrows like a crazy person.
She frowned. She loved her daughters, but they acted like they were twelve.
Finally, they arrived at Ellie’s door, and she turned the key in the lock. Pushing open the door, she was greeted by the scent of incense and the warm glow of candlelight.
This was new.
On the stereo, there was some cheaply produced R&B – baby making music, she thought sourly. Oh God, did Cherish have a guy over? But then she heard the lyrics.
Ooo hoo hooo
Gonna put my sting in you…
Whoo hoo hooo
Get you sticky with spider glue…
Oooo baby…
I’m the Love Spi-DAH!
Dear God.
She rushed to the stereo, slapping the power off. Her parents walked in, looking around curiously.
“What the hell was that, Ellie?” her father grunted. “Why is it so dark in here?”
Ellie spun around, smiling nervously. “Oh, you know, candles keep the place warm, don’t have to spend a lot of money on heat.”
“Saving money. Good.” Satisfied, he looked around. “Smells like a brothel in here. Where’s the can?”
“I think it smells nice.” Her mother remarked charitably, wrinkling her nose. “Don’t you think so, Elsie?”
Elsie looked around, smirking. “Oh yeah, Mom. Smells… romantic, don’t ya think, Ellie?” She winked at her reddening sister.
Ellie exhaled, looking around, straining her ears. No grunting and moans coming from Cherish’s room. Thank God.
But wait.
The master bedroom door was ajar.
Her room.
“Uh… I’m gonna… go put something away.” She rushed to her room, opening the door.
Miguel stood on the bed, clad in only a garish leopard print thong, a black bow tie, and those cuff thingees male strippers wear. He looked down at her with a lusty grin.
“You, little chica, are caught in the web… of the Love Spider!”
Ellie blanched. Oh God.
Miguel put his hands on the back of his head, and gyrated his pelvis for her benefit.
“Are you ready to mate, girl? Yow!”
Ellie turned very pale. “Oh god, Miggy, quiet down! My…”
He cut her off. “I know, I know, you’re under my spell… Now, girl… Prepare to get sexed up!” He cried out “Ay yi yi yi yi…”
The door behind her pushed open, bumping her. Mr. Alcott looked in. “Ellie, I can’t find the damn bathroom. My bladder’s acting up something fierce and I…”
Miguel was cut off in mid-yi. “Yi yi yi….” His voice dropped in horror and he turned very white. He grunted as though punched in the gut. “Oww…”
Mr. Alcott was not expecting to see this.
“OH DEAR GOD.”
Ellie felt her stomach drop.
“Dan? Ellie? What’s going on in there?” her mother inquired, stepping in behind her husband, and jostled the stunned man further into the room. Her remark upon seeing Miguel on the bed, wearing next to nothing was “Oh my.”
Miguel covered himself with his hands.
Mr. Alcott was stunned. “Who the hell is that stripping on your bed, Ellie?”
Ellie whimpered miserably.
Mrs. Alcott cocked her head curiously. “You know, Dan, you never dress up like that for me anymore.”
Mr. Alcott turned to regard her wife, snapping. “Marge, that was a long time ago. And besides, this isn’t the place to discuss that. For Christ’s sake, there’s a naked Mexican on our daughter’s bed!”
A diminutive voice behind Mrs. Alcott. “What? Where? Let me get my camera phone…”
Ellie desperately wanted the ground to swallow her whole. She couldn’t bear to raise her head and look at anyone.
A cackle of girlish laughter, and a flash. “BWAH HAH HAH! OH GOD, ELLIE! HAH HAHA AHAHAHAH!”
“Eleanor Marie Alcott! Why is there a naked Mexican on your bed?”
Ellie, in a small voice, said “Daddy… he’s… uh… my boyfriend.” She gave Daddy a weak smile. “Daddy, this is Miguel. Miguel… this is my father.”
Miguel lifted a hand. “Hi.”
Mrs. Alcott was reaching in her purse for some singles. Mr. Alcott stopped her.
“Ellie, why is your boyfriend naked?”
Small voice. “I don’t know, Daddy.”
Mr. Alcott shook his head at Miguel, and leveled a finger at him. “Miguel, right?”
A nod. “Yeah… um… Hi.”
“Miguel… well, at least you can speak English.”
A pause. “Thank you… uh…sir.”
“But… I want you to know something, Miguel. You’re giving me cancer.”
Miguel frowned.
“Right now. I can feel it. Looking at you on my first born baby’s bed, the bed where my precious little girl lays her pretty head down to sleep, it’s giving me cancer. I can feel my prostate swelling up like a damn balloon with malignant tumors.”
Ellie bit her lip. This was a new one. She remembered the ‘talks’ he used to give her boyfriends in high school, but he never claimed that the boys were giving him a terminal illness.
He went on. “I want you to know, Miguel, that when I die, of colon cancer eating my bowels alive, or a brain tumor turning me into a drooling lunatic, or some melanoma turning me into some kinda elephant man, that it’s your fault. When people ask my wife here how I died, why she’s a widow and my baby girls have to put their Daddy in the ground, she’ll tell them it’s because I saw my eldest daughter’s boyfriend stripping naked on her bed, and it gave me a host of inoperable tumors, and that’s how I died.” He raised his voice, as though to declare it to God and all of Creation. “When I see the face of God Almighty after I messily expire because my innards are riddled with tumors, I will declare to Him, ‘Lord, I’m here because I got cancer seeing Miguel naked, and it’s all his fault’”
The room was quiet save for Elsie snickering softly.
“Now get some damn clothes on!”
After Mr. Alcott left, disgusted, and Elsie traipsed out giggling madly, and Ellie escorted her mother out, despite the handful of dollar bills in her hand, Miguel slowly stepped off the bed.
Ellie felt mortified. She had introduced other boyfriends under decidedly better conditions.
Miguel smiled apologetically, and handed her a red construction paper heart. She took it with trembling hands.
“It’s a Valentine, honey!” he said, almost like a little boy. He helpfully pointed to it. “Look! I spelled it out with macaroni!”
She looked down, a mixture of delirious hilarity mingling with deep, crushing humiliation, choking off anything she could possibly think to say. In macaroni noodles, which he had pasted on with infinite care, it read “I WUV U KITTEN”
She looked up, the giggles coming now, she knew it. She couldn’t help it. It was too incredibly ridiculous to stay mad.
He smiled, hands behind his back, looking comically adorable in his stupid little Chippendale’s outfit.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetie!”
