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The next few weeks seemed to pass successfully, with the new found family settling in quickly. The cats were initially uncertain, but soon began to favour the company of Harvard and Yale, much to Maverick’s mild annoyance. At any moment, the house was full of laughter and music. The hallway had become a dangerous place, lined with shoes left in all sorts of places and coats that didn’t fit on the hooks discarded in piles. At first Ice had tried to maintain some level of order, but 14 pairs of near identical shoes were impossible to sort. He decided that it would sort itself out eventually. There could only be so many mornings filled with arguments over who had taken who’s belongings before everyone would agree to be more tidy.
The kitchen was an equally chaotic place, with two more blenders appearing on the counter top, an endless washing up pile of water bottles, and an entire cupboard sacrificed to vitamins and preworkout. Someone had always left a charger or a notebook, or a half eaten snack on the island. Ice had a sneaking suspicion it was usually Coyote, but he was yet to catch him in the act. Equally, it could easily be Maverick, who still didn’t know how to tidy up after himself.
The quiet days were few and far between, a welcome respite. On one unusually quiet morning, when most of the house were out working, Hangman had taken a day’s holiday and was enjoying a rare lay-in. When he finally got up, it was past nine and he headed straight down for breakfast. He poured himself a bowl of lucky charms from the box clearly labelled ‘Bradley’s cereal, hand’s off’ and savoured each mouthful of the stolen food. Afterwards he headed back upstairs, collected his shower caddy and walked into the bathroom, wrapped in a fresh towel.
It was there that he saw it.
Eight legs, spread across the white tile, eyes of true evil watching him.
Hangman screamed, dropping the caddy and briefly his towel in his rush to get out of the room. Bob, the only other person home, came running down the attic stairs in his dressing gown. “Jake! What’s wrong!”
“There’s a fucking tarantula in the bathroom.” Hangman replied, clearing his throat and blushing bright red.
“Hangman, are you seriously scared of spiders?”
“You open the door, then we’ll see who’s laughing.” Bob did as he was told, opening the door and peering round. “Oh my God no.” He slammed the door closed. Hangman was close to tears with laughter. “Do you want to use the upstairs shower?”
“My toothbrush is in there! I need my toothbrush.”
“Well I’m not getting it.”
“Oh, but I thought you weren’t scared Bob?”
“Wait here.” Bob ran downstairs and returned a few minutes later with a roll of bin bags, a bottle of cleaning spray, a kitchen knife and a fly swatter. “If you’re going in there, you might as well go in prepared.”
“This is a spider, not a warzone.”
“Well there’s nothing stopping you opening the door and going in like a normal person, yet here we are.”
Five minutes later and the two were ready for battle. Bob held the cleaning spray and an open bin bag, while Hangman clutched the knife in one hand and the fly swatter in the other. “Right. On the count of three. One… Two… Three…” Hangman kicked the door open and ran in with a war cry. “There’s two! Abort! Abort! Fuck! There’s fucking two of them!” Their screams could no doubt be heard half way down the street as they ran out the room. Bob barricaded the door with a nearby side table. “I’m calling Phoenix. Put some clothes on.” He declared, running upstairs for his phone.
Twenty minutes later, Hangman and Bob were sitting on the landing, now fully dressed, when the front door opened and a panicked Phoenix took the stairs two at a time. “Bob! Bob, where are you? Are you okay?” She skidded to a halt at the top, taking the time to look between the two men sitting on the floor, the large knife and the barricaded door. “What the hell is going on? Bob, you told me you were having a panic attack! I faked an emergency to get out of a meeting!”
“You did what?” Hangman laughed. Phoenix did not.
Now deeply embarrassed, Bob explained the events of the past forty minutes. “Honestly you two. It’s a spider. Grow up.”
“It’s two spiders, Phoenix.” She rolled her eyes.
“Let me sort this out.” She pushed the table out the way and opened the door. “Come here little spiders.” The door was quickly closed.
“Do cats eat spiders?” Phoenix asked.
“Are you stupid? It will eat Tomcat!”
“What about Enterprise?”
“He’s so fat the spiders can out run him.”
“Great wisdom Hangman. I can’t see you coming up with any better ideas. Why did you bring a knife to a spider fight?”
“That was Bob’s idea!” He called after her as Phoenix went to look for a cat. She returned with Enterprise in her arms, half the size of her. “Let’s give this a try.” The boys watched as she opened the door just enough to plop Enterprise on the bathroom floor. The cat wasn’t a fan of this decision, and began to hiss as soon as his paws touched the ground. With a loud screech, Enterprise flew out the room, scratching Phoenix’s arm on the way past. “Bastard.” She snapped, watching the cat hurry towards Bob instead. “Okay, new plan. I’m calling for help.”
Payback and Fanboy were the next to arrive, also under the guise of Bob having some sort of emotional breakdown. Using a spare bamboo pole from the garden, they fashioned it into some sort of fishing rod with the fly swatter on the end. Fanboy laid on the landing while Payback gave instructions. It almost worked, until the swatter pushed one of the spiders onto the floor and it began walking towards them.
Rooster was the next person to be phoned, and he snuck away on his lunch break. “So. There are two giant spiders in the bathroom and Hangman is too scared to go in and shower.”
“If you laugh at me I will kill you.”
“I might just put one in your bed.”
“Rooster. I swear I will take you out with this knife and hang you out the window.”
The group of aviators watched Rooster manhandle the hoover up the stairs and positioned himself at the door. “Watch how an expert does it.” He grinned, walking into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. “He’s too confident.” Phoenix muttered.
Rooster stayed in the bathroom for some time with the hoover on, until there was an almighty thud and the hoover turned off. “Did he just throw it?” Fanboy asked, getting up to knock on the door. “You alive in there?” The door opened. Rooster was bright red and rubbing the back of his head. “I may have fallen over. I made a lunge for the spider and tripped.” Frustrated groans echoed around the hallway.
Bob brought one of the well-used ice packs from the freezer to Rooster, who had joined the collection of aviators and cats sat on the landing, nursing his sore head. “We need a plan. A proper plan this time.” No sooner had the words left Payback’s mouth, the sound of a key in the front door stopped them all in their tracks. They hadn’t called anyone else.
The door opened, but the individual didn’t speak on the way in. Rooster instinctively reached for the knife as the person methodically opened every door downstairs. Then the footsteps reached the stairs. The group took a breath, clutching the cats tighter. Rooster crouched with the knife while trying to balance the ice pack. “What the hell is going on here?” The booming voice of Admiral Kazansky was enough to send the fear of God through them all. Ice stood, arms folded and still in uniform, watching the chaos unfold in front of him. Tomcat came running over, nestling on his feet. “Garcia, Fitch, Trace and Bradshaw, why aren’t you in your training session?”
“I can explain, sir.” Hangman began raising his hand as if he were in school and blushing a deep shade of beetroot.
“There better be a serious explanation, I was told that Bob was in mental distress.”
Explaining to Ice everything that had happened was the most embarrassing moment of Hangman’s life. By the end of the story, it looked almost as if Ice was about to start laughing.
Within two minutes, he headed into the bathroom and removed the spiders while the others cleared up the mess they’d made. “Enjoy your shower Hangman.” Ice smiled, and gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “The rest of you, please head back to work. And Bob, don’t go faking any more mental breakdowns. I was worried.”
The spider ordeal was a talking point in the house for the next month, each of Hangman’s retellings more dramatic than the last.
On his birthday, a few weeks later, he awoke to a giant spider plushie at the end of his bed, with a note attached.
This is revenge. Understandable really. Happy Birthday Jake. Ice