The Shpegg....
The Shpegg is one of the lesser known delicacies peddled down the centuries by a line of descended Plains Traders throughout this big brass universe of ours. It is a commodity supplied primarily to a race of Globulitites known as Globulites who reside on the Plain of Eighty One Pillars. Used in anything from breakfast squibble to a hearty dinner stew, it can fetch anywhere upwards of 1000gg’s per every ounce, with a minimum weight generally around the one and a half pound mark. By comparison, and taking into account the resilience of their gold coin currency which tended never to fluctuate and forever remained strong, if ever there was a market to be had on Bradley for the Shpegg it would come in at a price of no less than 199,991 gold coins per ounce, making it in any case an unviable option due to the inconceivability of there even being in existence the 4,799,784 gold coins required to purchase at the least one Shpegg.
Originally discovered by an ancient relative now admirably known by her latter day descendants as Great Aunt Bronte, it was supposed to be called a Spegg, but due to the misfortune of her being both blind and impaired of speech, it was translated into the records as a Shpegg from #88 – Shp being from the root word Shpider, and egg from the root word egg. It was only later as the knowledge behind their own dialect developed further that the initial mistake was investigated, though by then it was far too late to be making any corrections that could perhaps severely impact their clientele who had been consistently purchasing what they knew was a Shpegg now for centuries.
They were a rare commodity unique to the Plain of Eighty Eight Pillars.
They were also great big spider eggs.
Meanwhile the Shpeggs were safe, but Rod wasn’t....
When the spider reached its front leg through the crack in the wall toward the delicious smelling rodent perched on top of the bandit’s shoulder, it secreted a toxin via the many tiny hair follicles that covered its entire body and thus produced in the mouse a paralysis induced coma immediately upon that moment of contact, whereas the mouse uncontrollably clenched around the spider’s leg and thus was completely immobilised. Such were the benefits of this defence mechanism that it was invaluable more so as a method for hunting, in saying that, the spider need only walk into a cloud of swarming bugs and there an instant meal could be had. Though on this desolate plain there was certainly no shortage of fare. A favoured prey of the spiders was the ever reproducing blind rats, being that the creatures had no eyes and as a consequence were as clumsy as an intoxicated topey on the top of a beetroot cider barrel, their plump black bodies supplied the spiders with a regular, and very satisfying meal, in comparison the bugs were simply sweets for after.
Back in the monster’s nether regions Barret was having what one might call a hissy-fit.
“SPIDERS..? I don’t do spiders!”
By now, after having finally learned the eight essential elements pertaining to a Shpegg and not yet having come to terms with the reality of it all, Barret fought to contain his eyeballs in their sockets and his heart within his chest.
Rod was gone.
Where was Rod?
Off with the great big spiders of course!
Cetra and Gabby were recruited to take the Shpeggs back to the Elevator; they would be safe there. Barry had figured out a long time ago that there was no conceivable threat to humans on #88, the spiders were flighty and puny, and only came up to about knee height, but still, he should have known better than to have brought a little mouse along for the ride.
Barret gave a heavy handed argument as to why he needn’t go after Rod and the great big spiders, he said, “I don’t want to.”
“What are you Barret, a man or a mouse?” Barry chided, “Because look at the trouble being a mouse has got Rod into. Now suck it up and grow some!”
“Burn!” Billy said in response to the dressing down.
That settled and Barret’s chest now defiantly puffed – only to save face, he still didn’t much like them spiders – Barry lead them all through a fissure in the wall.
“I assume you know where you’re going then?” Billy guessed.
“Um.... er.... yeah,” Barry said, “Remember the bad smelling cave...?”
“It all smells bad dude,” Barret said.
“Well....” Barry faltered, “This is kind of a back door.”
“And with its long, dark and cavernous corridor, it’s a real treat,” Barret persisted.
“You’re just a barrel load of fun at present aren’t you Barret,” Billy mocked his Irish friend.
Barret hmphed and then mumbled something about dirty great big spiders and their dirty great big Shpeggs and how Plain Eighty Eight could go and do something great big and dirty to itself.
In the shadowed extremities of the circular light shining outwards from Barry’s torch a number of beady red spots reflected back randomly; Barry suggested that these phenomena were more than quite probably spiders’ eyes, and that in lieu of hesitation they should bravely continue moving forward.
Thus in place of bravery Barret grabbed hold of Billy’s arm and suggested by the strength of his grip that he had no intentions of letting go.
The smell assaulted them before the visuals could disgust them; their nostrils wrinkled with the acidity of the air and their throats burned from the bile that gushed upwards from their stomachs. When they forced themselves to enter the chamber they immediately felt sick, in fact Barret even went so far as to discreetly turn away from Billy and throw up against the wall nearest him.
“Well that was gross,” Billy commented while shaking off Barret’s hand.
Barret quickly regained himself and wiped his lips with the back of a hand. “Must’ve been something I ate,” he coughed.
“Yeah, that’d be it.” Billy shook his head and continued forward into the chamber, leaving his Irish friend behind to go and stand alongside Barry deep within the bowels of the rock monster.
This is where things were hanging and something gooey stuck to the soles of their boots. Billy was mildly reminded of an abattoir he’d once visited during a school outing – which one was that again?
Barry shone the torch across dangling, web encased corpses; they all appeared similar in size except for one. It caught Billy’s eye when it swayed amidst the stillness of death, moving slightly from the feeble attempts to escape by its occupant. The spider’s meal was alive and wriggling, but the noise it made was muffled, hollow and dull, like the bonds it was imprisoned within were suffocating it.
“Over there, that has to be Rod,” Billy said and pointed a finger at the smallest of the cocoons. He looked around at Barret to see what he was doing, but Barret’s form could only just be seen in the faint backlight from the torch. “You ok, Barret?” he said.
“Having a ball back here,” Barret’s voice crackled in the darkness.
Barry, who was still holding the knife tightly in his hand, moved forward quickly to retrieve their little friend. Rod was close to the wall, a wall with many dark holes, the dark holes with no doubt many unseen eyes. When he raised the torch above his head to see to cut the webbing, a slender shadow caught his eye; he knew what it was, but on reflex he very stupidly grabbed for it anyway, rendering his hand immobilised and clutched awkwardly around the hairy leg of a spider. He screamed, not because it hurt, but because he wanted to avoid the embarrassment of dropping the torch in order to grab the hairy leg of a spider.
Billy stood back and gaped. In the dull, angled glow of the fallen torch he noted the size of the leg hanging down the wall and imagined the possible size of the body it was attached to somewhere back there in the dark; more importantly though, he realised, was the body presently attached to it at this end.
“Billy, get the torch,” Barry commanded loudly.
Billy retrieved the torch and immediately aimed it into the hole. What glared back at him from that hole was a big spider with reflective red eyes; it was spindly and oddly robotic in appearance, with an angled body rather than curved. One could almost say it looked alien.
> Of course it looks alien...! Billy thought.
“Barret!” he yelled as he turned away from the spider only to find the Irishman there beside him already.
“Big spider!” Barret shuddered and received the torch that was being passed to him.
“Now grab a rock and use it,” Barry yelled.
Billy picked up a sizeable rock from the ground and smashed it down hard on the spider’s leg; the spider squealed but Barry’s hand remained attached.
“No....” Barry screamed, “You have to hit my hand....”
“But....” Billy stared questioningly.
“My hand’s numb,” Barry continued to scream, “trust me, I won’t feel a thing.”
So Billy smacked the rock down hard onto Barry’s hand and again the spider squealed, but this time Barry’s hand woke up and let go. Moments later, after Billy had squarely pegged the rock at the spider’s head and shooed it back into the far recesses of its hole, Barry felt the pain.
“You said it wouldn’t hurt,” Billy shouted guiltily.
Barry rubbed his knuckles and cringed, “Not immediately....” he said quietly through gritted teeth.
Rod still dangled and swayed slightly within his webbed cocoon, he couldn’t say much considering his mouth was bound by sticky strands, and thus had little to contribute to their situation other than to continue dangling and swaying.
“Big spider gone,” Barret said gladly after all was done. He took the knife from Barry’s good hand and at the same time holding onto Rod he cut away the webbing so as to free the little mouse.
Immediately after that everything seemed to pause for a lengthy moment, then....
“Jolly good,” Rod said and coughed up a sticky gob of webbing onto Barret’s hand. Luckily though this disgusting reflex went unnoticed and he was therefore able to swish the phlegmy lump off and onto the ground with a quick flick of his tail. Afterwards, being satisfied with his discretion, Rod looked at everybody and said, “I think we have company.”
Company indeed!
As Barret flashed the torch light around the chamber suddenly many red eyes glowed into focus and made their presence known.
“This can’t be good,” Billy commented.
Can’t be good...? They were in a dark cave, surrounded by who knew how many toxic, hairy legged spiders capable of paralysing a limb with a single touch.... Of course it wasn’t good!
“They aren’t usually this bold,” Barry said with a surprised lilt to his voice, “Maybe we should go.”
“You.... think...?” Barret stammered.
There were two ways out that Barry knew of, the main tunnel leading back out to the first cavern where it met up with the sweeter smelling of the two, and the nasty back door corridor they had come in by. Barry considered them both, weighed up the pros and cons in his head, realised there were no pros but plenty of cons, and definitively decided to leave via the front door.
So Barry grabbed Barret by the shoulders and pushed him forward, forcing the Irishman to light their way. For a moment Barret balked, but the overwhelming desire to simply get the hell out of there helped him to overcome his fear of the great big, hairy legged, spindly and robotic looking spiders.
At first they moved slowly, their eyes challenging every dark spot and red glow they glimpsed. Billy unfortunately found himself delegated to the rear, but Rod shrewdly managed to work his way into the security of the middle by climbing up Barret’s sleeve onto his shoulder and then running across the bridge that was Barry’s arm and hiding himself somewhere under the collar of Barry’s shirt.
It wasn’t long before they reached the outer chamber, though it certainly felt longer under the circumstances. Many heart beats passed and much stale air was gulped during the distance travelled, and when they finally emerged from that place and cast their eyes upon the very first orange blobby thing, they were glad.
Although that gladness was short lived.
From the darkness of the tunnel behind them came an echo of sounds culminating into a single deafening scream, it ripped at their ears and chilled their blood, it raised the fine hairs on the backs of their necks.... it was altogether frightening.
“My goodness,” Barry gasped, “I’ve never heard them do that before.”
“And let’s hope we never have to hear them do it again,” Barret yelled.
So they decided to make a run for it.
They ran hard....
They ran over the orange blobby things. The orange blobby things didn’t much like that and so squirted them all with icky orange goo; it certainly wasn’t the most pleasant of sensations experienced thus far by our team of bandits, though it wasn’t a deterrent either.
They ran beyond the threshold of the cave and were instantly immersed within the ever changing colours of the aurora – blue in green and then green in yellow, even red in purple made a brief appearance.
They ran because they could hear the spiders’ pursuit of them, a sound oddly similar to that of a rain storm on a tin roof.
They ran through the rocky and craggy terrain, hesitant to look back, hearts racing and breath raking, ignoring the eyeless rats that skulked in the shadows and the bugs that got caught up in their hair.
Red spots in the distance glowed together with the lights in the sky and made known to them a presence of many more spiders that had yet to join the chase.
Until they reached the Elevator, where Cetra and Gabby were cradling Shpeggs and patiently awaiting their return, they refused to stop running. When they were all finally gathered together again in the centre of its cobblestone floor, and Cetra’s and Gabby’s questions were passed over into the void of selective hearing, Barry pulled out the remote control and pressed the number three.... and he continued pressing the number three while a force of great big spiders hesitantly advanced onto the Elevator platform.
“Dumb remote,” Barry yelled out of frustration and shook the contraption in his hand.
“Dumb fifty three minutes,” Gabby yelled back because nobody knew just how much time had actually passed.
“Dumb spider eggs,” Cetra yelled also and grinned and jumped up and down on the spot.
“Dumb spiders,” Barret yelled because he hated those eight legged creatures even more so now.
“Dumb clowns,” Billy yelled....
CHAPTER FORTY NINE