Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Skittish (Choco)

           Only the sound of the bottom of my pop can clinking against the desk can be heard in the dark, empty apartment. No one else is awake this late at night here, one of the best things about living next to nothing but nice old folks who run like clockwork and keep to themselves. It's always so peaceful, especially at one in the morning when I am finishing my editing and getting ready to upload and queue the episodes for the next few days. Sky Factory was pretty lit today, if I do say so myself. Two straightforward, progressive episodes with no huge disappointments or minor heart attacks - I consider that a victory. Stream can be therapeutic when there's no trolling, crashing, or absolute catastrophes. It would be nice to have days like this more often, especially when I'm streaming Ark. But I wonder if that would get boring, always having perfectly good, jumpscare-free days? Ark, though... A day of streaming Ark with no jumpscares is about as common as a three-winged quetzal. Kappa. And you fly in circles trying to find said good day.

I drag the last clip into the editing program and finish off the last few sips of my third can of Fresca while I wait for it to process so I can send it over to YouTube to process again and render, and hopefully not switch titles and thumbnails with another fudging video. Maybe, just maybe YouTube is trying to tell me something with that. Who knows?

That's when I see it. Slowly, lazily, creepily creeping along the crevasse between the ceiling and the wall right above my desk. I can't suppress the unmanly scream and I flail helplessly as I rocket back in my chair away from the desk and the many-legged horror staring down at me from the dusty little corner. It's body is the size of a Tootsie Roll and the circumference of its legs is almost the size of the top of my can of pop. The abnormally large spider doesn't move, knowing that I'm no threat to it. Or it just dropped in to watch the stream and pour me a cup of spiders. Kappa. For all I know, it could have been up there in the dark corner for a day or more, watching and waiting and sipping Fresca vapors. I can't deal with that thought right now, or ever.

"Okay, buddy. I know for a fact you aren't one of my mods and I don't mean to discriminate, but you scared the fleep out of me. I don't appreciate that." The spider doesn't move, obviously. I would be terrified if it did react to the strange man trying to reason with it. I sigh deeply and head to the kitchen to grab the red Solo cup sitting next to the sink and the filthy broom in the front closet. What did I do to deserve this? "Now... Friend? I know I'm not going to kill you, and you know I'm not going to kill you. Every creature of the land, air, and sea around here knows I'm not going to kill you. So if you would kindly... just get in the cup... we could be done with this whole mess... a lot... sooner." I stand well away from the wall and try to knock the creeping horror off of the wall and down onto the floor as far away from me and my desk as I possibly can. My lungs are forcing out deep, shuddering breaths as I poke at the dark brown spider with the bristly broom, and an animalistic shriek blasts out of my mouth when it finally tumbles down to the floor. It immediately begins skittering around, trying to find somewhere to hide from the impending teleportation. I've done this hundreds of times before, but I've never seen a spider this big anywhere outside of a zoo or a movie screen. If I was braver, I would stop and take a picture for Instagram. But I'm more worried for my life right now. I smack the cup down on top of it and hold it in place, cringing at the feeling of eight spikey legs smacking against the cup, trying to slap its way to freedom. I slowly drag the cup along the floor so that I can grab the credit card application I had been meaning to cut up, anyway, and I slide the envelope under the cup to hold the terror inside. I turn the cup upside down and shake the envelope to make it fall back in the cup, my morbid curiosity forcing me to briefly look in at it before I book it for the living room. I open up the front door and carefully walk through the outdoor hallway to the stairs, almost falling face-first down because I am clumsy as fleep and too busy watching the panicking spider in the red Solo cup.