Erotic Spiders – or how David doesen’t listen…

I have hallucinations during the night.  The hallucinations generally centre around the ceiling fan in our bedroom.  The fan turns into a starfish, an alien life-form or a hobbled octopus missing three legs.  The other night it was a Robotic Spider.  Matrix-like in its design, with cameras in its abdomen – massive eyes, whirring noise, looking down on me as I slept.  I had the presence of mind to be aware that I was buck naked and pulled sheets up to cover my ta-tas in case the robotic spiders were broadcasting video of me sleeping to the world at large.

I was telling David about it over breakfast.

“Erotic Spiders?” he asks.

“No, not EROTIC spiders.  ROBOTIC spiders!”

“Earn more sessions by sleeving?”*

I took in what he’d originally said.  “EROTIC spiders?  Are spiders a fetish thing now?  ‘Cause… EEEEEWWWW!  Oh, and, you and your daughter both have bad ears.”

“Bat ears?”

I roll my eyes at him.  “Cute.”

* ps.  From Roxanne

C.D. Bales:
[shouting through the front door]
Ten more seconds and I’m leaving!
Roxanne Kowalski:
[opening the door]
What did you say?
C.D. Bales:
I said, ten more seconds and I’m leaving! Wait a second! What did you think I said?
Roxanne Kowalski:
I thought you said, “Earn more sessions by sleeving.”
C.D. Bales:
Well, what the hell does that mean?
Roxanne Kowalski:
I don’t know. That’s why I came out.