Spiders

Sitting on the couch looking at a fireplace 6 feet wide. Cast iron gratings with a polished steel poker and thongs and shovel. Smooth stone blocks make up the floor. A Persian rug is soft under my feet. Blue and red. Green and yellow. Black. Those are the colors of the foot tall spiders playing in the cold fireplace. I turn to look away, over my shoulder. I look at anything other than that clicking game those creepy pets are playing. Behind me is a different kind of room. The carpet is cheap and ugly. The kitchen is linoleum and Formica. I turn back and do not see a fireplace; it is now ugly cheap carpet and white painted walls. The spiders are no longer pets. They are coming. I grab a book. Its paperback pages feel soft as I swing it at a three foot wide dark blue spider. The spider backs off for a second as the green one takes its place. A hard crunch and a squeal as I swing true at the body of this much to large insect. Feet underneath me I jump on the black one and then kick the fleeing spider against the wall, where it leaves a stain. As I look up, triumphant at my victory over things that make my skin crawl I am not surprised to find myself in a forest. The wind whistles in my ears as I run past trees and jump over ravines. I am nearing a clearing. As I slow I close my eyes to enjoy the smell of a forest after the rain something smells different and I snap my eyes open. I am in a wooden walled room with leather chairs swiveling around to look at me. They surround a long hardwood table. I am sitting at the head, opposite the door. The door opens. Nobody says a word, but I know I am fired. I get up to leave.