My lodger

This past week i've had a lodger in my room. In fairness it doesn't take up much space, what with it being only three inches, toe to toe, and a plump tow and a half centimeter body. It doesn't hang about in the places i use much either. Doesn't play my xbox or read my kindle, waste any of my paper or re-tune my guitar. It sort of keeps to itself, which was part of our agreement; Stay out of my way and i'll not throw you out of my window you scary hairy bastard.

Yes my lodger, Shaq, is a spider. A spider that is bigger than any i've ever seen in my room. Usually spiders that lodge in my room either die or forcibly removed the moment i see them but with Shaq, things are different. Shaq is the only spider i've ever met that has his own special place at the top of my room, where some wallpaper has folded slightly due to humidity. And he's the only spider i know that keeps blundering off his favorite spot and plummeting seven feet to the ground, hitting a curtain rod on his way.

Shaq is a special spider. First of all, i think it's a female (though I referred to her as him in the last paragraph) because it's massive and most spiders are bigger when their female. Being female isn't that special, really, but it is when your named after a male basketball star. I believe that Shaq is protecting my room. Shaq laps the top of my room roughly 3 times a day. I don't see her in the night. But since i've let Shaq roam the walls of my room i've not seen a single insect try it's luck in my room. (Although that could be due to the lower temperature.)

Shaq is a small source of horrific looking levity in my room, like having an ugly pet. She's funniest when im reading and the room is silent but for my giggling at Tom Sawyer. At the corner of my eye i can see a big black speck trickle across the wall to my left and then it's gone. A millisecond later i hear three or so strings of my banjo puck quite loudly. And Shaq will scurry quickly under it towards the wall. 

Shaq has been recorded falling from near the roof four times. As i write this she is on the top of the wall above my guitar. She's quite trusting as she's even posed for a photo that i'll show you later.

I hope she doesn't fall on my head. She nearly has while i was sitting at my desk. She was chilling behind a Thrice ticket hanging down from the alcove overlooking my desk. Luckily my shelf filed with toys and CD's caught her fall.

Spider's in Britain aren't all that bad. They bloody look it, though.

Let's play a game.

I've gotta write something tonight. See, i've set a goal to write something twice a week and set the deadlines at 14th and 28th of each month. I really don't feel like writing right now because i am intoxicated by them substances we have to feel nice and loose and relaxed and yum and yay.

but whatever im going to write something. Let's make a game of it. You can read what i write and at the end you can guess what intoxicating substance i've indulged my wits to suffer defeat. (that last sentence i'd have never written sober.)

Okay. 

It was that time of the day and my mouth tasted foul. I used language of the same state describe the experience. "Fuck me, my fucking mouth is like a fucking horrible fuck.".

However, I had to get up and shake my stick at the day. I stretched and scratched and headed for the bathroom for a good clean. "Hello" said the lizard hanging over my shower curtain reel.

"Whaddup Mike?" Greeted I like the way do in them adverts.

"Dude, why did i get up here? Im shit scared of all these curtain rings."

"I'll get you down, come here."

"Cheers bro" Thanked Mike the lizard when suddenly he suffered the most terrifying fright a lizard could grasp. I had just realised that Mike, this lizard that i was holding was a complete stranger. I have never met Mike. Or even established to reason that it was perfectly ok to have a talking lizard in your bathroom who talked to you like you were best buds the night before. In a state of shock i flung mike out the window. The anguish i felt to harm such a beautiful, friendly creature then took over me and i began to cry, "NO!". But Mike was always such an incredible superhero of a lizard. Thriving under pressure, he whipped his tongue towards me, wrapping it gently yet firmly around the back of my neck. He then pulled himself towards me, did a backflip and then a 180 turn and landed perfectly on my left shoulder. He looked into my eyes and waited for me to collect myself at the beautiful awesomness that was Mike."How did you do that?" I hungrily asked.

"I am the the apprentice of the master spy at LSS" he offered.

"Who's that? What's that?" I shot.

"The LSS is like the FBI for lizards. They teach us to answer questions in reverse order. And the master? The master is none other than Gex. Enter the gecko" Mike explained. And with that I felt a suave sensation lightly brush against my left leg. The Gex had walked into the bathroom via my leg space and tail bounced onto shower curtain reel. He then said a movie-parody style quite and shot me between the eyes.

Black.

Infrared laser detected. Switch on.

"What? Am i inside a television? These new flat screens are a tight fit, my ribs are cracking!" I asked through a mangled mouth.

"You soon will be sir because you've been recruited to star in our new TV show "Square eyes". A reality TV show about people who watch too much TV and then get put inside a tv to see what it's like to live like electricity." a host kindly explained.

"But i hardly ever watch TEEVEE I read bookx and take long walks and sleep a lot." i argued.

"AHHH but that's where we've got you. We're actually a reality show about people who drastically lie about how much. Welcome to MTV's "We know you love us you whores." 

"NOOOOO!"

My war cry was intimidating. The television case crumbled in fear. The host was now the least. I then struck my fury towards the Whole of TV. I masculinly scouted the worlds television broadcasting pylon and destroyed it with my fists. I destroyed it further with my legs and then humiliated it with my mouth. "Fuck you television. You're stupid.". That taught that.

But then all the fans of television wanted to kill me. And they did. 

And then i woke up and YOU were all a dream.

OOOOOOOHHHHH

The end.

So what have i taken?

I found a note i wrote on facebook

A friend asked a bunch of her facebook people to write about a time where they smoked. This is the story i sent. 

Smoking

Im not a smoker but you said "be creative" and gosh darn it, that is what im going to do!

Or am i just going to tell you about a time when i did smoke.

It's the latter.

I've smoked marijuana, which was ok. I dont know if this is what you had in mind but it was in the form of a stick filled with leaves that was blazing on one side while suction was applied to the other in order get the THC into my brain and give me a high. I don't really know why i did it. I've been in group situations while the drug was affecting others and only affecting me passively, which in my opinion at the time, was good enough.

The first time i got stuck I was slightly stressed with third year uni deadlines and heavily stressed in the relationship i was in. These are not excuses, it's just a bit of back story. I went to catch up with a few old friends at one of their homes and decided to get high.

The first smoke, as you well know went down like water. My lungs were trying to push the hot smoke back up. Did you know that coughing makes you higher? I just think it gives you a sore throat. 

I persevered and continued to smoke a drag or two before passing the dutchie on the left hand side.

As soon as the Stick left my hands, that feeling landed on me like a light, warm bed sheet. My eyes were wide open and my mouth locked wide open with a hint of a side smile. That seemed to amuse everyone present.

For the first half hour i was quiet because i was trying to suss out whether or not everyone in the room could hear my heart beating as loudly as i could. No sooner was i distracted by a high pitched noise that came from the mouth of my friend who was offering a spliff while doing a Bruce Lee impression. I couldn't smoke it because i keeled over gripping my stomach. I was supposed to be laughing but i didn't give off that impression. I was keeled over, banana shaped, gripping my stomach silently with my mouth and eyes wide open. My stomach was in dreadful pain. The agony of hilarity. After 20 minutes of laughing i carried on smoking.

I then "greened out" and stopped to play the guitar badly.

I then eat some chocolate and i was all better.

The end. (Based on a true story by Dafydd Evans)

(I wanted to end the story like a child because I am one, I think.)