Page 40 of A Cock and Bull Story
“What kind?” Arthur asks studiously.
Belle gives him a look.
“The big kind! How the fuck do I know?”
“You don't know what kind of tarantula he is?” Arthur presses.
“No!” she shrieks back.
Arthur looks over at me.
“Well, there's a good chance that he's a Tertiary, given their size and ability. There's only a few Secondary tarantulas out there.”
“This one was as big as a dinner plate!” Belle adds with a shudder.
“Then, he's likely the Goliath bird-eating tarantula. Perhaps the giant huntsman spider,” Arthur postulates.
“I'm sorry. What?” Belle frowns.
Arthur repeats himself.
“They’re the largest species of tarantula on the face of the earth,” I tack on.
“Are they poisonous?” Belle wonders.
“No, because poison is something that you ingest, but all tarantulas have some form of venom—that is, they are venomous and inject it through their fangs,” Arthur responds.
Belle snarls and goes over to kick the unconscious man. I’m torn between laughing and groaning. Instead, I just swipe a hand over my face.
“What happened?” I demand.
“Well,” she starts, “I got up to get a drink—to replenish my fluids because Arthur isnominute man—and, all of a sudden, I thought I saw a hand open my window. Except, it wasn’t a hand—it was a tarantula! So, I started throwing some, ah,toysat him. Also, some kitchen knives. I ended up cutting off one of his furry legs. When I came back out after getting Arthur to throw a blanket on the thing. . . it was aman,and he was missing a finger. It's over in the corner of my living room and, as you can see, there's blood everywhere.”
At this, Belle breaks down sobbing, her brilliant hair creating a veil over her face.
Arthur and I do our best to calm her, but it's obvious she's very distraught—not that I can blame her.
“We need to get this shifter somewhere else. We're going to be in trouble when he wakes up.” I tell Arthur.
“Noted,” he agrees.
“Do you have a car?” I ask Belle.
“No, I don't have a license in this country—I mean, that hasn’t stopped me from driving on the wrong side of the road here, I just don’t have one.ButI can borrow one from a friend, maybe.”
“Let’s hope so because I can't haul him on my back,” I say, nodding toward the unconscious shifter.
Belle quickly goes across to her neighbors and knocks on the door.
“Hold on! We've got to finish up this round!” someone yells from across the hall.
Belle stands there patiently while Arthur goes back to her room and gets dressed. He even brings back a pair of boxers for me.
“Sorry, mate. The best I could do,” he offers.
I cringe as I slip his Y-fronts2on.
The neighbors finally open their door to speak with Belle. There's some quibbling and some promises made filming her getting a leg over3that I don't even want to begin to think about, but she comes back with car keys in hand.
