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The warm air blasts him as soon as he opens the door, nearly bowling him over from the force. Patrick quickly steps inside the little general store and shuts the door. Shutting out the cold wind that was biting his heels. Almost immediately he feels like he’s baking like an egg on a hot July day as he brushes the snow off of his shoulders.
The shop itself was neat and tidy, obviously well taken care of. Big front windows let in as much winter sunlight as possible, but a few oil lanterns had been lit as well. There were only a few rows of shelves, containing just about everything someone living this far west could possibly need. Lined up neat and tidy on the shelves, Patrick could see foodstuff like flour and beans, cooking pans, along with plates, cups, and silverware. Another self over there were cases of bullets for just about any gun that existed, along with gun oil. Against the far wall was lined with horse tack, mostly bridles and cinches. Hanging on the wall above the horse tack were yokes meant for oxen.
“A little cold outside ain’t it?” Patrick looks up towards the counter where a middle-aged man was leaning against it, watching him. He was stout and had shoulders that spoke of many years of heavy lifting. His hair was starting to grow a little gray about the edges and the man’s well-trimmed mustache had a few gray hairs as well.
He watched Patrick with a bemused expression as he was quickly buttoning his thick wool jacket. One he had traded for from a stagecoach driver for a deer he had shot. It did nicely keeping him warm in the freezing cold waiting outside the door, but here inside, it was tad too hot.
“Yes sir, can’t tell if it’s the wolves or wind biting my heels at this point,” Patrick laughs, pulling down the bandana he had been using as a makeshift scarf. Snowmelt was starting to drip off the brim of his hat.
“If you think this is bad son, you should’ve been here ‘bout twenty years ago,” the man shakes in head in remembrance, “snow was so deep that you could’ve been standin on the roof of a house and wouldn’t have known it.”
“I believe it, I’ve heard enough of you old timers say it, so it must be true,” he walks over to the counter, flashing the man a quick smile to show that he didn’t mean no offense. He pulls out his powder horn from his pocket and sets it on the counter. “I need a top off on powder if’n you don’t mind?”
“You boys are all the same, laughin off your elders until it’s you who has grayin temples and young’ins makin fun of you,” the old man says, but there’s no bite behind the words. He takes Patrick’s powder horn and opens the stopper at the wider end, peering inside. Finding it empty. “You know they have these fancy new copper flasks for powder nowadays. Says it’s better than these old horns.”
“So I’ve heard, but the horn has been servin me fine and dandy, why buy somethin new when this is workin jus fine.” His eyes wander over some of the wares set up on the counter. There was a jar of hard cany that was looking mighty tantalizing. However, he was down to his last few dollars, and he really needed this powder to make his web bullets.
“You got a smart head on your shoulder son.” The man turns towards the powder keg sitting just behind him. Opening it up and pulling out a measuring cup filled to the brim with powder. “Sometimes I swear some folks are jus waitin’ for that next shipment on the train jus so they can buy the latest and greatest from back east. Like take a look there at those cards next to those candies there, those jus came in.”
Patrick finds the cards the man was referring to and peers down at them. They were Valentine’s Day cards, the one with the lace around the paper edge of the card and prints of angels and hearts. Well shit was it really that close to Valentine’s Day? It was too easy to lose track of the days, they started blurring together when there wasn’t any calendars or clocks to stare at constantly.
“You know back in my day, we didn’t jus spend our money on scraps of paper to declare our love,” the man continues as he measures out the powder on a scale set up on the counter. “No we had to work for it and work hard did we. My missus, she’s in the backroom startin supper, but my missus, I had to work all summer in her pa’s wheat field before he even let me think about courtin her. No we didn’ have these what’cha call them Saint Valentine Cards.”
Rolling his eyes, Patrick doesn’t say anything as he continues to examine the cards. Valentine day cards have been around for about as long as he had been alive. He had seen the fancy printed cards once or twice in the big town, the few times they had went. Mostly it was homemade ones that were passed around. The girls at school and church loved to gossip about who they would get a card from and such. The older boys hadn’t been much better, stressing and worrying about their homemade cards.
Hell, his own brother Ben had fretted and worried about making the perfect Valentine’s card for his sweetheart, Liz Allen, while they had been soldiers. Patrick had scoffed at his brother’s worries, believing they had more important things to worry about. Like not getting shot for one. But Ben had told him that one day he would understand. As much as Patrick loathes to admit it, but Ben had been right. He bet his brother’s spirit had either been laughing his ass off or cursing out Patrick when he had asked Benj to go steady while half his guts were hanging out.
“Do ya’mind tellin me what day it is?” Patrick asks instead, picking up one the cards. It was a little print of those little cupid babies flying around and raining arrows down on unsuspecting victims below.
“Why it’s the 5th of February.”
So there was still time. Patrick feels like he should do something. It was a day meant to celebrate love and romance. Celebrate his sweetheart Benj and their special relationship. Something that was worth celebrating. But was Valentine’s Day celebrated in the future? Maybe he should find out first. Just in case it was one of those things that fell out of fashion by the time the new century rolls around.
The man sets Patrick’s powder horn on the counter, “alrighty there, horn’s all filled up.”
Patrick slips the last of his money over the counter. “Thank you, sir.” He reluctantly puts the card back down.
“Pleasure doing business with you Mr…”
“Parker,” Patrick holds his hand out, which the older man heartily shakes.
“Mr. Parker! I’m Bill Anderson. You come by again you hear?”
“I’ll do my best Mr. Anderson,” Patrick promises, stuffing his horn back into his jacket. Tipping his hat to the man, he heads out. Back into the cold. Buttoning up his jacket and pulling his bandana back up over his nose, Patrick braces himself.
It was still as cold as it had been before he had entered the store. Really fucking cold. The wind whipped up dry powdery snow and blew it everywhere. There was no one else to be seen in the rest of the small town of Crow’s Hollow. Everyone was much smarter and staying inside unless they absolutely had to go outside. Why did Patrick think it was a good idea to come this far north again? Oh yeah, he was bored and looking for trouble. Things slowed up during the wintertime, most villains and varmints hunkered down until warmer weather.
He walks around the side of the building where he had left Widow standing between the general store and the building next door. Out of the wind compared to where the horses were normally hitched. She neighs in greeting as he rounds the corner.
“How’re you holding up lady?” Patrick asks, patting her neck. Her winter coat had grown in thick and shaggy, Nice for staying warm on these cold winter days. She searches his pockets instead for any potential treats, unbothered by the cold. “Sorry, didn’t get nothin today, gotta be stuck with dry prairie grass. You remember what Mr. Charlie said ‘bout it. ‘Best grazin grass on both sides of the Missisip’.”
Patrick puts his powder horn into his saddle bags and mounts Widow. They emerge from between the buildings and ride on down main street back out towards the open range. As soon as they’re out of sight from the town, Patrick is pulling on his poncho for another layer of warmth. Then he pulls out Widow’s mask and fixes it in place to give her eyes some protection against the wind and blowing snow.
The world was a white blanket with only a few places where the wind had scoured away the snow exposing the brown grass below. At first glance the prairie looked lifeless, like you were on the only soul for many, many miles. However, upon closer inspection you could find little signs of life. Little delicate tracks left behind by the hardiest of the songbirds that had chosen to remain instead of flying south. The quick trotting coyote that from time to time would leave a hole where it had dived for a mouse. The nibbled-on edges of branches around the creek beds where deer were eking out a living until the fresh spring grasses. The increasingly becoming harder to find sign of a buffalo herd plowing through the snow with their massive bodies.
They rode on for several miles, Patrick only had Widow stopped every once in a while, so he could examine a track. Keeping one eye out for his dinner, Patrick ruminated about Valentine’s Day.
What could he do for Benj for such a special day? Maybe a love letter written on actual paper with a pencil. That and sending flowers was what is normally done nowadays. But it didn’t feel adequate to Patrick. He already sent Benj letters all the time with whatever he could scrounge up and carve letters into.
A gift of some kind then? But with what money, he had just given over the last of his money he had earned last summer and fall. Work wouldn’t pick up until springtime brandings rolled around. Maybe something homemade, but again what? What would be good enough for Benj when he deserved the world.
Patrick then has to come back to his earlier question. Was Valentine’s still celebrated? Maybe he should ask Benj himself and find out what’s done in the 1930s. Then they could make plans for something special. Benj and him had plans in two nights for coffee. It would be the perfect day to ask and he would still have a few days before to come up with a gift worthy for Benj.
Widow snorts, breaking him from his thoughts. They had ridden along the top of a bank leading down to a small creek. A small flock of turkeys flush from the brush. Quick as a striking snake, Patrick has his gun drawn, hammer cocked, and shot fired. One of the birds falls back to the earth in a puff of feathers. Patrick slides from the saddle and goes to collect his prize. He ties the turkey by its legs to the saddle and remounts.
“Let’s find that house we passed by on the way into town. I think we can hunker down there,” Patrick tells Widow. She bobs her head in agreement, and they ride off again. It takes them a few hours but they find the little house tucked into a little divot in the prairie. It was in rough shape, abandoned long ago. Who knows where the original occupants were now. They could’ve had been some of the first homesteaders to come out this way. Wanting a fresh start in life. For whatever reason it obviously didn’t work out. Making a living out on this land was tough, tougher than all those pamphlets and fliers made it out to be when they encouraged families to move west. Either way one man’s misfortune could turn in another’s fortune.
Despite the rough shape the house was in, it would serve in a pinch. Pushing the door open, Patrick finds it’s a simple one room house. On the far side of the room was a fireplace. Hanging from a hook next to the fireplace was a pan. In one of the corners there’s a partially collapsed bedframe and the remains of an old straw mattress. Surprisingly the dirty, nearly brown windows were still in good shape. Not a crack to be seen and letting in the weak winter daylight. There was a thick layer of dust on everything.
Snapping from pieces from the old bedframe and using his knife to whittle down some kindling. Patrick gets a fire going. Once he was sure it could be left unattended, he returns back outside to Widow. They head towards the nearby creek and find a fallen log. Patrick ties off one end with his lasso around the log and the other around the saddle horn. Widow drags the log back to the cabin.
From there Patrick unsaddles Widow and lets her wander off to graze as she pleases. Mask still in place to protect her eyes from the biting wind. He carries his stuff inside and sets it next to the fireplace. Then back outside again where he uses his spider strength to snap the log into more useable pieces of firewood. Hauling his firewood inside, he stacks it next to the fireplace and throws a piece on. It’s starting to get a little warmer inside the little house. It would be a nice place to hunker down for a few days.
Patrick then gets to work preparing his dinner. Once again, he’s back outside to clean the turkey up. He saves a few tail feathers, with the idea of giving them to Benj. They were neat looking, though he was more particular to pheasant feathers, but he hadn’t seen any this far west yet. Turkey was cleaned and back inside he went. Making use of the old frying pan, after giving it a good scrub with some snow, and slices up some breast meat and sets it in the pan.
While his dinner was cooking, Patrick unrolls his bedroll across the floor near to the fireplace. He adjusts his saddle, with the saddle blanket over it and settles down against it. Enjoying the warmth of the fire.
Widow was happy, she had found a spot behind the house where the snow was nothing more than a dusting on top of the grass. And as a bonus it was out of the wind. She would be content to stay there for a while. With her shaggy winter coat and a bellyful of food, the cold wouldn’t bother her at all.
After a while, he checks his dinner and finds it starting to burn. He pulls the pan away from the fire and ignoring the meat burning his fingertips, he scoops up a piece and pops it into his mouth. Patrick ignores as it also burns his tongue and chews quickly. The rest follows quickly and soon, he’s lying back with a warm and full stomach.
I ride along and dream is all I do
For I’m a poor young cowboy
And I’m so in love with you
This drivin cattle is lonesome and is slow
And the trail to Wichita city is a long way to go without you flo
I rode away drivin all those steers
And it took a lot of doin just to try to hide my tears
Cause I know a cowb-
Patrick jumps when he hears the chime of his goober. Losing his train of thought and the chord he had been strumming. Setting his guitar aside, Patrick stretches and shakes the pin and needles from sitting in one place so long. He reaches over and snags his saddle bags from where they were next to his saddle. Digging inside for his goober.
Two days had passed since his trip into town. He was supposed to meet with Benj later today. He could hardly wait. His heart was starting to ache for the sight of his boyfriend. Sure, he had seen Benj last week and the week before and the week before that. They tried to get together at least once a week. But Patrick felt justified being allowed to have achy heart while riding along. It was mighty lonesome on the prairie.
There was a loud thump on the house walls. Shaking loose some of the dust.
“Of course I always have you Widow,” Patrick calls out. He finds his goober wrapped up in his spare shirt.
Pulling it out, Patrick taps on the screen. There’s an electronic letter waiting on the screen from Benj. Tapping the letter to open it.
Pat,
I’m sorry but I’m hard on the trail of some mooks involved in just about everything. I won’t be able to meet up tonight or possibly this week. See you next week. Love you.
Benj
Patrick won’t lie and say he was a bit disappointed. He always looked forward to seeing Benj. The feeling of his strong supportive arms wrapping around him. His sparkling silver eyes…but he understood. Their lives were unpredictable and busy. When you were hard on the trail of villains it did little good getting distracted. It wasn’t the first time it had happened since they started courting. He was just as guilty, so Patrick swallows his disappointment.
He makes his was over to his firewood pile and searches for a suitable strip of bark. He finds it one and strips it from the wood it was attached to. Sitting back down on his bedroll next to the fire. Patrick then pulls out his knife and gets to work scratching out a message.
B,
no worrys round em up luv u
P
For some extra emphasis, Patrick takes the time to carve little hearts around the message. Picking up the goober again, he pokes around until he finds the call icon for Ms. Lyla. Her ghost sparks to life when he presses it. It had been explained to him that Ms. Lyla was just there to send messages, like a multiverse pony express Patrick supposes. Though he thinks it was meant more to be sending messages to Miguel directly, but if one asked nicely Ms. Lyla would send letters to other universes in a miniature portal.
“Web-Slinger. Oh nice digs,” she spins around the examine the dingy little one room house. “Let me guess you have a package for E-90214.”
“You’ve guessed it ma’am,” Patrick holds out the strip of bark towards her little ghost.
Her form wavers and snaps like flames as she moves around. Tapping at little ghost buttons that only she could see. A miniature swirling version of the large portals appears right before him. Patrick drops his bark strip letter and watches it was it disappears.
“Alright there you go! One piece of bark delivered to E-90214!” Ms. Lyla gives him a two fingered salute.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Patrick says, tipping his hat in her direction.
Ms. Lyla disappears in the blink of an eye and the goober screen goes dark. Patrick puts it back into the saddle bag it had came out of. Now he had a bit of time on his hands, it was just past noon now. He hadn’t planned on moving from his latest camp until tomorrow. Widow and he have been doing small patrols around the area. The most exciting thing that had happened is they found a small herd of buffalo. Patrick managed to spot them from a distance and left Widow behind to sneak closer to watch them for a while. Watching the large animals swing their powerful heads back and forth to shove the snow off the grass below. Eventually they had wandered off and Patrick returned to Widow.
There was also the dent in his plan to ask Benj if Valentine’s Day was still a thing. Maybe he should go seek out a spider from the future and ask them. He pokes at the remains of what had been left of his turkey that he had eaten for breakfast. Except for the buffalo they hadn’t seen any other wildlife worth eating. So if he went to headquarters he could snag a meal while he was there. Yeah, Patrick thinks he would do that.
Patrick and Widow manage to find Mr. Porker dragging in a rather sour looking Rhino fella towards the containment cells of the society. The villain was wrapped in a cocoon of web. He wriggled like a worm and was screaming profanity that was covered up with a loud repetitive beeping noise.
Mr. Porker turns towards him after a long solid stretch of beeping. “Tone it down a little, will you? There are children around doncha know?”
This only seems to infuriate Rhino even more and more beeps followed.
“Need any help there Mr. Parker?” Patrick calls out.
Ham perks up as he turns to face Patrick and Widow. His voice drops into an exaggerated western drawl. “Well, I’ll be a coyote running off the edge of a cliff. Web-Slinger! Widow! What brings you round these parts?”
Patrick can’t help but grin Mr. Porker confused him more times than not, but he was very enthusiastic and entertaining at the same time. “I had some future questions if’n you don’t mind sparin a minute.”
“Of course, give me one sec.” Mr. Porker picks up Rhino as if he weighed nothing. With a mighty heave Mr. Porker throws the brute through the opening that led to the containment area. “Incoming!”
There are some brief shouts of alarm, followed by more of beeping. Then it falls back to the typical chatter that filled headquarters.
Wiping his hands together that produces a little puff cloud. Mr. Porker puts his hands on his hips and turn to face Patrick and Widow. “Alright buckaroo what kind of future questions do you got?”
“Is… Valentine’s Day still a thing?” Patrick asks.
Mr. Porker’s ears stand straight up in surprise. “Still a thing? It never stopped, it’s a big thing nowadays.”
“It is?”
“I’ll show you!” Mr. Porker says enthusiastically. He reaches up towards the ceiling, his arm stretching longer and longer. Then he yanks it back down and the headquarters plunges into darkness.
A bright light from overhead suddenly turns on. Patrick jumps when he finds himself no longer in his saddle safely astride Widow. But sitting at a school desk. Widow is next to him, also sitting at a school desk. Squealing in surprise, she scrambles upright, toppling the desk over with a clatter.
Mr. Porker emerges from behind a chalk board set up in front of them. A pair of spectacles are balanced on the edge of his snout. In one hand he has a long ruler that Patrick can’t help but eye warily. Even after all these years he could still feel the stinging from his first schoolteacher’s ruler on the back of his knuckles for some misdemeanor or the other.
“Valentine’s Day,” Mr. Porker begins, snapping the ruler against the board. Patrick flinches at the sound and Widow grows nervous from Patrick’s uneasiness. The words ‘Valentine’s Day’ appear written in chalk even though Patrick never sees Mr. Porker pick up a piece of chalk. Mr. Porker in interrupted by Miguel’s little ghost suddenly appearing on his goober.
“Spider-Ham! What have I told you about bending reality!”
“I’m trying to impart important lessons here!” Mr. Porker shouts back.
“Do it somewhere else!” Miguel snaps. Then he disappears in the blink of an eye.
Mr. Porker huffs in annoyance. He does something with his hands and the darkness was gone like someone had turned all those light switches back on again. Patrick finds himself sprawled out on the ground. Widow standing just next to him. The desks and chalkboard were also gone. Several of the spiders that had been in the hallway as well looked as disoriented as Patrick felt. Mr. Porker as ever was unflustered by his own antics.
“Have you had lunch Patrick? Come over to my universe and we’ll talk over lunch. How does that sound?” Mr. Porker extends a helping hand towards him.
“That sounds pretty good to me Mr. Porker,” Patrick agrees. It would be better than whatever the hell had happened a few seconds ago. He accepts the hand and let’s Mr. Porker help him stand up.
They jump through a portal and land on top of a really tall building. The same kind that seemed to grace every futuristic New York, even Benj’s. In Mr. Porker’s world everything in the background appeared painterly, like the pictures in books. Even though Mr. Porker himself was fairly simple looking compared to the background.
“How do you feel about hotdogs?” Mr. Porker asks, peering down over the side of the building.
Patrick leans out too. While he’s never been particularly scared of heights. But looking down and seeing that you’re above the clouds and the other buildings looked like they were miles below them, it certainly made his insides squirm. Edging away from the edge, Patrick hooks a firm grip around the saddle’s stirrups. “I’m down for anythin, Mr. Porker.”
One hotdog stand later and they were sitting on the ledge of, thankfully, a much smaller building with a large pile of hotdogs on a plate between them. They both had their masks tucked up over their noses, so they could freely eat.
“Alright Valentine’s Day. What do you want do know about it?” Mr. Porker asks.
Patrick pulls a hotdog from one of the buns and offers the bun to Widow. Who happily eats it. “You said it was a still a thing right? It becomes a big deal? How so?”
“Well how does it work in your time?”
Patrick shrugs, taking a bite from his hotdog. “Maybe givin a card and flowers to your sweetheart or anyone you fancy. Usually it jus meant a day at church and talkin bout the Saint Valentine. At least that’s how it was growin up, I don’ keep up well with the latest trends. But I did see some cards at a general store a few days ago.”
“Well things haven’t changed that much then Pat. People still give cards and flowers, especially roses. Roses are super popular to give your sweetheart on Valentine’s Day. But that’s not all you can give someone, there’s also chocolate, stuffed animals, balloons, jewelry, clothing, and just about anything that has a red or pink heart on it.”
“Do people really get all that stuff for their sweethearts?” Patrick asks.
“No, it depends on the person. But it’s not just giving partners gifts either, there are special things to do on Valentine’s Day. Most popular thing to do is a romantic movie, or there’s things like carving your names in trees, or what I’m doing with my MJ is we’re going to catch a movie. I guessing based on all the questions you want to do something for Benj?”
“Yes sir. I was goin to ask Benj bout it tonight, but he’s busy with his detective work.”
Mr. Porker picks up another hotdog and takes a large bite out of it. “So are you planning to surprise him then?’
Patrick offers another bun to Widow. “Probably not a surprise Mr. Porker. Las time we planned on surprisin each other it didn’t end as well as we hoped.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Mostly was jus wanted to do somethin special cause y’know that day is supposed to be bout celebratin love and I do love Benj.”
Mr. Porker pats his shoulder, “well no one is doubting that. Don’t overthink it too much okay Pat. I’m sure whatever you come up with, Benj will love it.”
“Um sure, Mr. Porker.” Patrick agrees. “Thanks for answerin my questions.”
There’s only one hotdog left on the plate. Mr. Porker pushes it towards Patrick. He doesn’t bother arguing with Mr. Porker and simply eats the hotdog instead. As always, he hands the bun off to Widow.
“Always!” Mr. Porker beams. “and if you need help with something, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I will Mr. Porker.” Patrick wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Standing up, he gathers up Widow’s reins. “Welp I’m gonna be takin off then Mr. Poker, go take advantage of those showers by the society’s gym there.”
“Good idea. You take care of yourself Patrick and please just call me Ham like everyone else.”
Patrick just grins and touches the brim of his hat. He opens a portal and leads Widow through. “See you around Mr. Porker.”
One hot shower and shave later and Patrick feels pretty refreshed. Out of all the fancy new inventions that are to come in the future, showers had to be the greatest one there is. Instant hot water that didn’t need to be brought in with buckets and warmed over a fire. The instant coffee maker was a mighty contender though and within Patrick’s sights. Couldn’t stop at headquarters without a cup of coffee.
Filling up a large cup for himself and grabbing some apples for Widow. They head out with plans to jump back to their own universe. He had much to think about from his conversation with Mr. Porker and there was no better place by next to a fire to do some thinking.
“Hey Patrick!”
Patrick turns at the sound of his name. Pavitr was waving him down from one of the tables. He was crouched on top of the chair seat rather than sitting in it. Hobie was lounging in the chair next to him, leaning back with his feet resting on the table.
With Widow in tow, Patrick picks his way through the crowded cafeteria to their table. He tips his hat at them, “Pavitr, Hobie.”
“S’up,” Hobie offers a two fingered salute.
“Are you looking for Benj?” Pav asks, twisting in his seat so he can scan the crowd.
“No, Benj is busy in his universe, I was jus askin Mr. Porker some questions bout Valentine’s Day.” Patrick explains, taking a sip from his cup.
Pav snaps back around from looking around and zeros in one Patrick like a mountain lion at the mention of Valentine’s Day. He looks like he’s nearly vibrating with excitement. Clapping both hands over his cheeks. “Are you doing something special for Valentine’s Day? Are you surprising Benj? That is so romantic! Wait is Valentine’s Day even a thing yet in your time?”
Patrick holds up a hand in hopes of slowing the tide of Pavitr’s questions. “Yeah it’s a thing during my time, has been for a while and I dunno what I’m doing for Benj yet. I wanted to know if it was still around and what’s expected nowadays. So I guess I should be askin you what you’re plannin on doing with your lady Ms. Gayatri?”
“Oh!” Pavitr says, “we don’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day in India, I’m only using it as an excuse to take Gayatri somewhere nice for dinner.”
“Oy don’t listen to what those corporate shills are trying to sell you,” Hobie interrupts. “Valentine’s Day has become over commercialized and pushes the idea that you need to buy the most expensive shit every in order to show how much you love your significant other.”
“Yes, yes capitalism is bad, but the romance!” Pav argues.
“You can be romantic literally any other night of the year and it doesn’t have to cost you a cent.”
“I don’ think I gotta worry about spendin a dime,” Patrick informs Hobie. “I ain’t got a dime to spend. Plus I think the mos expensive thing round would be a saddle. I don’ think Benj would want a saddle.”
“Listen mate it’s real simple,” Hobie leans further back in his chair until he’s balanced on two legs. “If you want somethin authentic then just make something authentic. Write a original song or a poem, draw a picture, make a homemade meal that’ll show how much you love the other person. That’s how I would go about it.”
Patrick nods along. He could see the point Hobie was trying to make. Making something required a lot more effort and thought than buying something from the store. Benj was definitely worth the effort into making something. But what could he make that would express his love for his silver badger?
“Thanks for the insight fellas, gave me somethin to think about. But I gotta be moseying along now.”
“No problem bruv,” Hobie says with an easy grin.
“Good luck with coming up with something for Benj!”
Twirling his lasso easily over his head. Going in greater and greater loops, building up the momentum. Patrick zeroes in on the target. Widow galloping full speed, growing closer and closer to a rather speedy Doc Ock.
Roaring on the other side and just behind the fleeing Doc was Mrs. Drew on her ‘morti-cycle’. A future gas-powered bicycle that roared and snarled like a savage beast. Thunder just behind them was the actual beast, Spider-Rex, himself. The ground shook and quacked with every step he took.
They were racing on some of the flattest, hard packed, grassless, ground Patrick had ever encountered. Not even the prairie was this flat. He couldn’t remember exactly what earth they were on or where exactly they were. But this Doc Ock had slipped through the ‘fabric’ between worlds and managed to land in a universe that was a hinderance for a majority of spiders. Unless those spiders happened by be riding a horse, a motorcycle, or were a dinosaur. The only one missing from their little posse was Spider-Mobile, but he hadn’t been available.
Patrick throws out his loop. Timing it with the lift and fall of the metal tentacles that propelled the Doc Ock forward. Mrs. Drew shoots out a web at the same time. At a signal from Patrick, Widow slides to a stop. Patrick hitches his end of the rope around the saddle horn in a loose knot. Mrs. Drew slams on the breaks of her morti-cycle.
The Doc Ock hits the end of the line. Two of his tentacles yanked out from under him. The other two free tentacles just barely stop him from landing flat on his face. The man snarls in anger and twists and yanks against his ropes.
Drawing his guns. Patrick fires a quick succession of shots at the remaining free tentacles.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Doc Ock ducks in surprise at the sound of gunshot. The webs strike true and stick the tentacles to the ground.
“He’s all yours Rex!” Patrick hollers. Widow is dancing backwards and to the side to keep the tension on the rope. Keep the villain from gaining his feet too quickly.
Spider-Rex roars, the sound vibrates and rattles against Patrick’s ribs. He goes thundering past, Patrick and Mrs. Drew. Doc Ock managed to get standing on his actual two feet and turns to see Spider-Rex bearing down on him. He lets out a very high-pitched scream, his face crumples from anger into terror. Spider-Rex opens his gaping jaws and lunges forward.
Snap!
The screaming suddenly cuts off. Patrick watches as Spider-Rex’s jaws snap mere inches from Doc Ock. Even standing several feet away and not even being the target, Patrick could feel his heart starting to pound. Widow was tossing her head nervously. Doc Ock’s eyes were tightly shut in fear, he tentatively peeks and finds himself nose to nose with Spider-Rex. He gulps nervously.
“Rrrrr Give up?” Spider-Rex growls.
“Yes,” Doc Ock squeaks, raising his arms in the air.
“Excellent,” Mrs. Drew draws the little containment cage from her pocket and tosses it underneath the feet of Doc Ock. The glowing red orange cage springs up and entraps the villain. Patrick rewinds his lasso, and the group collectively relaxes.
It was only five days until Valentine’s Day now. Patrick was no closer in figuring out what he could do special for Benj that day. He was trying to follow Mr. Porkers advise and not overthink it. But he’s been unsuccessful. Upon getting the summons for the mission, he had been racking his brain for ideas. Nothing he had come up with so far had felt good enough for Benj.
“Alright, lets get Doc here back to headquarters so he can go home,” Mrs. Drew orders. She turns to open a portal for them.
“Yes ma’am.” Patrick moves to slide from the saddle and go push Doc Ock’s cage through.
Spider-Rex takes a step towards them, Patrick pausing to regard the dinosaur. “Allow me.”
“All yours partner,” Patrick settles back into the saddle and nudges Widow to take a few steps away.
Spider-Rex swings his massive tail at the cage. It goes soaring through the air and right through the portal.
“Bullseye! Nice shooting Rex!” Patrick cheers. Spider-Rex lifts his head proudly.
“Better hope that doesn’t crash into the Go Home Machine and break it down for the day,” Mrs. Drew hums from where she was still messing with her goober next to the still open portal.
Patrick and Spider-Rex exchange glances. If the Go Home Machine got busted, then a lot of folks would be mad. Miguel would be one and Ms. Margo as well. Patrick rather go hand to hand with a mountain lion than either of them. Spider-Rex looks like he was thinking the same thing. They scramble for the swirling portal. Spider-Rex slipping in just before Patrick and Widow.
The cage was flying just in front of them in the portal tunnel. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any surfaces to run along or stick too…except.
“The tail, lady, the tail,” Patrick sends Widow a mental image of his plan. She stretches a leg forward towards Spider-Rex’s flailing tail. One sticky hoof catches it, then another, followed by the last two. Go! Go! Go! Widow surges toward, running along Spider-Rex’s back. The dinosaur glances over his shoulder, eyes widened, then he turns and rigidly points his snout at their runaway cage.
Pulling free his lasso once again, Patrick begins twirling. They reach Spider-Rex’s head, another stride and they’re on the edge of his snout. Spider-Rex lowers his head. Widow’s muscle bunches. Patrick stands up in the saddle. Rope Twirling.
Spider-Rex’s head snaps up. Widow leaps. Propelled forward with the extra momentum. They’re soaring forward. Exhilaration bubbles forth. The rush gets to Patrick, and he can’t help but shout in his excitement. “YEE-HAW!”
He hurls his lasso, and the loop settles around the cage. Patrick pulls the lasso taunt and starts hauling in the rope. Until he can lean out and latch onto the cage with one hand. He grins under his mask at Doc Ock. “What’s up Doc?”
“You idiot! You blasted idiots!” Doc Ock sputters.
The end of the tunnel was fast approaching. Patrick automatically leans back in the saddle, bracing himself for the landing.
“I caught’cha didn’t I? Now brace up for landin.”
They emerge from the end of the tunnel. Widow comes to a sliding stop. Then jumps out of the way of Spider-Rex as he emerges from the portal.
“That was grrrreat!” Spider-Rex rumbles, stomping up next to Patrick and Widow. His clawed hand curls in a little fist, a gesture Patrick recognized asking for a fist bump. Standing up in the saddle, Patrick obliges and bumps fists with Spider-Rex. Spider-Rex then holds his fist out towards Widow, and she reaches up to bump it with her nose.
“You said it, Rex! Thanks for the assist!”
Mrs. Drew appears just behind them on her motorcycle. She raises an eyebrow at them but doesn’t comment. Patrick would take it as a win in his book. Another successful mission. Patrick loosens his lasso and recoils it. The Spiders that attended the Go Home Machine take away the furious Doc Ock so they can send him homeward bound.
“Hey Jess! Webs! Rexy! Looks like you caught our wayward octopus, nice work nice work.” Peter B springs up and is playfully punching Mrs. Drew’s shoulder. He’s wearing his fluffy pink robe and slippers as usual. Only little Mayday was missing, but she could be roaming and terrorizing the society elsewhere. “Oh by the way Jess, there’s a little surprise waiting in your office.”
Mrs. Drew sends Peter B a sharp glance at the word surprise. “This better not being another prank, Peter.”
Peter B holds up his arms innocently. “A prank? No, no promise. We got a while until April Fools. I think you’ll like this surprise; it was sent from your husband.”
The suspicious glare melts off her face and is replaced with a bright smile, she laughs with delight. “Oh no he didn’t. Peter tell me he didn’t fill my office with flowers.”
“Maybe,” Peter B says in a teasing tone.
Patrick leans close to Spider-Rex and whispers out of the side of his mouth. “Hey partner is sendin your sweetheart flowers to their work normal?”
“Beats me,” Spider-Rex rumbles as softly as he could. “I don’t have a job, I’m just a dinosaurrrr. I think it’s forrrr Valentine’s Day. Me, I’m going to hunt down the biggest Brontosaurrrus I can find for Marrry Jane Watsaurrr.”
“Well best of luck to that friend. The Brontos those are the ones with the really long necks?” Spider-Rex bobs his head in confirmation.
They’re pulled from their conversation by the roaring of Mrs. Drew’s motorcycle as it rushes off. Leaving behind a stinky cloud of smoke and black marks on the floor.
“See you arrrround Web-Slingerrr,” Spider-Rex growls, stomping away.
“Yup you too,” Patrick calls after. The excitement from the chase was staring to die down. Widow was starting to relax beneath him. She was starting to play with the bit with her tongue.
“Hey Webs good to see you man, oh and you too Widow.”
“Howdy Mr. B, how’s life treatin you?” Patrick asks politely.
“Oh you know been busy. I promised my wife that we would go one day without any villain attacks for Valentine’s Day. So, I’ve been running around making sure that no one is up to anything.” Peter B laughs.
“That would be quite the feat, I dunno any villain that’s respected any plans I’ve made.”
“Unfortunately, you’re right there, but that won’t stop me from trying,” Peter B sighs. “Anyways enough about my plans. You got any plans with Benj? Wait is Valentine’s Day even a thing during your time?”
Patrick throws his arms out in bewilderment. “Why does everyone keep askin me that? The day’s been round longer than I’ve been alive. Probably long before my great grandparents.”
“I mean you don’t have Groundhog’s Day or Halloween yet so…” Peter B points out.
Patrick sighs, “yeah, yeah we have Valentine’s Day, and no me n’ Benj don’t have any plans yet. He’s been busy in his universe. I wanna do something special for him, but I dunno what. I’ve been askin round and seein what’s done in the future, but so far nothin seems right.”
“Well have you learned of so far?” Peter B asks.
“That’s kind of the problem B, I’m plum out of ideas. Right now in my time it’s normal to jus send a card and flowers. Unless I take Mr. Anderson from the general store’s advice of working for Benj’s Aunt May all summer. Mr. Porker told me bout all the stuff you can buy your sweetheart, but I don’ have money and nothing seems right for Benj. Hobie suggest somethin handmade, which I’m leanin towards. But I dunno what to do for Benj and nothin I come up with is feelin right.”
“Ok Webs here’s a little secret I’ve learned from having gone through many, many Valentines’ Day,” Peter B tells him a little sagely. “There’s no right or wrong answer for what you should do for Benj. Whatever you do will come from the heart and Benj will love it for that. So don’t worry yourself too much about it. You don’t even need to do anything. Just letting Benj know that you love and cherish him and your guy’s relationship would be enough.”
“What do you think Widow?” Think it looks like a badger?” Patrick offers up the piece of wood he had been dutifully carving away at for the last two hours.
Widow ambles over from where she had been grazing while Patrick had been whittling away. She reaches down and nudges at the little carving. Then nibbles at it. Nearly swiping it from Patrick’s hand.
“Don’t eat it! Jus look at it!” Patrick snatches the carving away and holds it up to her eye. She simply blinks at it.
“It looks like a badger right?” Patrick prompts, sending a mental image of the feisty creature. Lived in large burrows in the ground that tripped you up while running. Liked to go for your ankles if you weren’t paying attention. Stank to high heaven, but not as bad as a skunk.
Widow’s nostrils flared at the thought of a badger. She scrutinized the carving more closely. Patrick waits impatiently, keeping the carving held up for her inspection. After an agonizing half minute Widow givers her opinion. She snorts loudly and walks away. It wasn’t a stinky badger.
Shoulders slumping slightly, Patrick finds he has to admit that the carved lumped didn’t really look like a badger. It looked more like a badger had chewed on a piece of wood. Its legs were too long, with one leg was too fat compared to the other three. He had whittled away too much on one side of the face, leaving a big dip on the snout. Part of the tail had broken off when Patrick applied too much pressure with the knife tip. There were little nicks all over the wooden surface, making the little misshapen creature look like it had a bad case of smallpox.
It was only four days away from Valentine’s Day and Benj was still busy with his detective work. Patrick had gotten one more letter through the goober from Benj. It was another apology that he was still busy and wouldn’t be able to meet up this next week either. Odds are that Benj was going to be busy on Valentine’s Day. Which was fine, Benj was out there saving people.
Besides Patrick was still stumped to what he should do. Folks said that Benj would love whatever Patrick did. But nothing felt like it was enough to capture Patrick’s feelings towards Benj and how much he cherished their relationship. He couldn’t imagine life anymore without Benj. Even Peter B’s suggestion of not even doing anything didn’t feel right either.
He was trying to circle back to what he did know. Homemade gifts. Instead of a card though, he was trying his hand at carving a little badger for his silver badger. But he wasn’t exactly what one would call artistic. It was the best he could do with so little time and so little supplies available.
Patrick hunches over the log he had been sitting on in front of his fire. They had left the abandoned house and had followed the creek as it threaded westward. The weather has been fair for once, the sun shining for the last few days. Still really cold, but the bright snow in the sun was sure a pretty sight when butt up against the brilliant blue sky.
They had only stopped so Patrick could try carving a little wooden badger. Trying to carve wood in the saddle was a little more than difficult. Even going at an ambling walk didn’t stop Patrick from slicing his palm with his knife. It was healed just fine now, but for both of their sake, they had decided that all woodcarving would be done on the ground.
Widow had threatened to buck him off.
Sighing Patrick tucks the little carving into his pocket. He stands up and kicks snow over his fire and scatters the remaining embers. With a sharp whistle, he calls Widow over and saddles her up. “Come on lady I can think and ride at the same time.”
They set off at an easy trot, now leaving the creek behind them and heading southwards. There was no rhyme or reason, Widow just felt like heading that way and Patrick let her take the reins. Let him allow his thoughts to roam and wander.
Maybe he should put himself into Benj’s shoes. What would he want if he were Benj? The depression to be over. Nazi’s to be eradicated from the world. Be able to attend college. If Benj asked, then Patrick would do whatever it would take to make all these things comes true. But he was also aware that he was just one man. No Patrick needed to think a little smaller.
Ok so if he was Benj coming back from fighting the scum of the New York. Been doing this for two weeks straight. Well Patrick himself would probably be tired, so no doubt Benj would be tired. Wouldn’t want to do anything most likely except eat and sleep and recover from hopefully just minor injuries. Wait…what if?
Buzzing with excitement a plan begins to form in Patrick’s mind. It was a good one in his opinion. He thinks Benj would love it. He just needed to gather a few things first.
“C’mon Widow, we got a Valentine’s to be a makin!” They take off in a gallop, snow flying up behind them.
The snow is blowing sideways. The wind howling in Benj’s ear, threatening to steal his hat. He places a hand on the crown as a particularly powerful gust pushes it up. He crawls down the wall towards the window that led to his room in Aunt May’s apartment. Reaching the window, he has the pry it open. This window had a tendency to stick, and it took a lot of control to not accidently break it. They didn’t have the money right now to get a new window.
He’s bone weary tired from chasing down the remnants of Fisk’s gang that suddenly became organized. It wasn’t an all-out war like it had been last time. But chasing them down had become time and energy consuming. He hated that they had caused him to cancel on Patrick. So, some anger may have directed at the mooks he had managed to get his hands on so far.
Benj slips into the dark room, quickly closing the window behind him before it blew in too much snow. Heavy snow drips from his coat and hat. He sheds his Spider gear and tucks it away in Uncle Ben’s old trunk that was kept in this room. Changing out his goggles for his glasses and putting on old ratty sleepwear for the night. His stomach howls hungrily, but he didn’t want to accidentally wake Aunt May up looking for food. He would wait until morning.
Sighing, Benj sits down on his bed. Pushing up his glasses as he rubs his face tiredly. Something large and hot bumps against his hip. Jumping up, Benj whirls in alarm. He hadn’t left anything on his bed when he had headed out for the evening. It also definitely wasn’t Ding-Ding. There was a dark shape sitting innocently on his bed. His spider sense wasn’t buzzing.
Reaching slowly out towards his bedside lamp. Benj pulls the cord and lights up the room. It was an old pot with a giant dent in the side. There was a rope wrapped around the pot, keeping the lid in place. Crumbled under the rope as well was a folded over sheet of paper. Benj teases it out from under the ropes and opens it. Something falls out onto the floor.
Bending down he picks up what looks like a lump of wood, a large bird feather of some kind, and a spoon. Upon closer inspection of the wood, Benj finds that it’s been carved to look like some sort of animal. But he couldn’t be sure what it was exactly. The old slightly bent spoon offers no explanation either and neither does the feather. Turning it over in confusion, Benj turns his attention back to the letter.
My dearest bager, oasis of the desert, silver moon of the night, Benj,
I hope this letter finds you well and Happy Valentine’s Day. I dont know if is something you celebrate though fuchure spiders tell me it hasnt gone away. Even if not I wanted to tell you once more how much I love you. Youre a bright light in my life and I dont know what I would do with out you. These last few months of courting you have been some of the greatest moments of my life and I wouldnt trade anything in the world for them. Ive said it many times before but I love you Benj Parker and will continue loving you as long as theres a breath in my body.
In the meent meantime I have sent you a surprise. Chasing moocs sounds like mighty hard work. Relax and enjoy. Take care and see you soon.
With lots of love Patrick
P.S. its supose to be a bager
His heart starts beating a little faster, his grip on the paper tightens just a little. Something fuzzy sits on his chest and clogs his throat. Benj has to sit back down on his bed as he becomes overwhelmed with love for Patrick and sudden pooling guilt. He had completely forgotten about Valentine’s Day. Before Patrick he hadn’t cared much about the day, he hadn’t had many reasons to celebrate it. But Patrick was definitely worth it.
Benj reads the letter again and again. His fingers tracing Patrick’s chicken scratch handwriting, word by word and line by line. He wants to call Patrick and tell him how much he also meant to Benj. How he to was a bright and colorful aspect of Benj’s life. The only thing stopping him was that it was so late in the night, he didn’t want to disturb Patrick’s rest.
Reading the last paragraph once more, Benj sets aside the letter and turns to the pot. Untying the rope holding it together, he lifts the lid. Steam wafts out from under the lid and the most delicious smell fills the room. Benj’s stomach howls in protest. It was a meat and potato stew. He grabs the spoon Patrick had been so nice to provide, he shovels a spoonful into his mouth.
As far as stews went it was fairly average. It could use some seasoning and the broth was a little watery. The potatoes were a little undercooked and the meat was tough and chewy. But considering that Patrick made it himself, it was the best thing that Benj had eaten. Soon he had finished about half of the stew before making himself stop. His stomach has stopped wailing, and he was feeling content.
Silently he slips out of his room with the pot of stew in the ice box for breakfast with Aunt May tomorrow. Returning to his room, he goes and picks up the little wooden carving. Examining it under a new light. He guessed it kind of looked like a badger with a bit of smallpox.
Digging through the bedside table drawer, Benj pulls out a piece of paper and pencil. He also grabs the goober so that he can send directly to Patrick. Crouching over the bedside table under the lamp he starts writing a quick letter back. With one hand holding the pencil and the other gently holding the little wooden badger.
Patty,
Happy Valentine’s Day my love. I’m sorry for missing out on today. I should be done dealing with my mook problem here soon.
I don’t know if words will do me justice. But I love you too, Patrick O’Hara, more than anything in this world and thousands more. My life would be less colorful without you here by my side. I can’t wait to wrap you up in my arms again and wish I could never let go. Miss you with all my heart
Love Benj