Once, in the world of the insects, bugs, and creepy-crawlies, there was a spider who wanted more.
“This is not the life for me,” the spider said to himself. “It is not enough for me to sometimes have what I need, sometimes have a little extra, and sometimes not quite have enough. I deserve so much more. I should be able to have a fly for breakfast, a fly for lunch, and a fly for dinner every day. I should be able to have a fly—no, two or three flies!—as a midnight snack if I’m feeling peckish.”
“I am not like the other bugs,” the spider told himself. “I don’t suck on dirt like a worm, or chew on wood like an ant, or sip from flowers like a butterfly. My palette is more refined! I dine on the juices of those who are still alive. And my technological innovation is nonpareil. I design webs based on precise mathematical models and objective precision. I take empty space and develop it, weaving my web hither and thither, so that it becomes something with real value. Really, I deserve to have whole storerooms full of flies.”
“Yes,” the spider concluded, “I should have one billion flies.”
His eyes full of his own potential, the spider began to weave a web. The web he wove grew larger and larger. Soon, he was having a fly for breakfast, a fly for lunch, and a fly for dinner every day. But the more he ate, the hungrier he became. He built his web larger and then he was able to have not just one but two and then three flies as a midnight snack.
The other insects, bugs, and creepy-crawlies started talking amongst themselves.
“Things are really getting out of hand here,” said the flies.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said the rolly-pollies.
“No, for real, they are,” said the flies.
“I don’t see any kind of problem,” said the termites.
“You will soon,” said the flies.
“I don’t know about that,” said the sole Luna Moth.
Meanwhile, the spider was still feeling a little peckish.
He re-examined his web. Some parts were breaking down. It was a lot of real estate for one spider to maintain. Some parts were derelict and abandoned. Some parts had holes. He went to work on reinforcing his web. Soon, he was bringing in all kinds of bugs. Some days, he would eat half a fly before dining on the eyes of a roll-polly, and the liquified organs of a termite. He began tossing half-eaten bodies away.
“This is the life!” he thought to himself, while scratching his thorax with the proboscis of the Luna Moth. “I’m not a ‘eat stale leftovers’ kind of guy.”
The other insects, bugs, and creepy-crawlies had a meeting.
“Things are getting out of hand here!” said the rolly-pollies.
“I told you so,” said the flies.
“This is a real problem,” the termites confirmed.
The Luna Moth said nothing because she was dead. Well, not quite all the way dead but suspended in a near-death state in the spiderweb, where the spider would go to “nip a sip” from her abdomen when he felt like he deserved a special treat. Which was most of the time.
“We should probably have a meeting with the spider,” said the rolly-pollies.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” said the flies.
“I’m sure he’s a reasonable guy,” said the termites.
“Don’t make me say ‘I told you so’ again,” said the flies.
The next day, the bugs all met with the spider to express their concerns.
“Look,” they said to the spider, “we understand that everyone needs to eat. We all give and we all take away. We all treat some others as food and are, in turn, food for some others. Life cycles. Some forms absorb some others forms which are, in turn, absorbed by other forms. And so on. You don’t need to watch The Lion King to understand this.”
“Watch the what?” the spider said.
“Never mind,” said the other bugs. “The point is that while life and death are all a part of living and dying, and while we all contribute to both of those things, your shit has gotten really out of hand.”
“You really think so?”
“Well, you are scratching yourself with part of my friend’s face,” the bugs pointed out. “You didn’t have to bring that to this meeting.”
“Fair,” said the spider, trying to casually tuck the Luna Moth’s proboscis away.
“Also, I think you have part of Derek still stuck between your fangs,” said the termites.
“Ew!” said the flies.
The spider wiped his fangs.
“If you don’t change your behaviours,” said the flies and the rolly-pollies and the termites, “then we will unite ourselves against you. We will chew down any plant you use as an anchor. We will gnaw through any wood you use as a base. We will drop sand into your webbing. We will make your life a living hell and you will starve to death. By grasping for everything, you will end up with nothing.”
The spider did one of those blinks where all eight eyes blink at once. (“Creeeeeeepy,” whispered the flies.) He rubbed his fangs and reached for the proboscis to scratch his itch before remembering where he was.
“Maybe we got off on the wrong pedipalp,” the spider said. “I’m willing to concede that there may have been some design flaws in my web. I didn’t catch and eat every fly or bug or creepy-crawly that flew or crawled or stumbled into it. There are definitely some holes, and gaps, and blind-spots. Some parts that aren’t being put to best use.”
“I’m not sure we’re talking about the same thing here,” said the flies.
“Shhh, let him finish,” said the termites.
“So rude,” said the rolly-pollies.
“So, what I think we should do,” the spider continued, “is all work together to solve this problem.”
“Great idea,” said the termites.
“What we really need,” the spider said gaining momentum, “is a consultation group composed of flies who have lived and living experience of being caught in the web!”
“Yeah!” said the rolly-pollies.
“Um—” said the flies.
“That way,” the spider said growing in majesty with every word, “we could draw on their expertise in order to design a web that is truly inclusive of everyone!”
“Yippee!” said the termites.
“Put out an RFP!” said the rolly-pollies.
“I though we wanted a less inclusive web?” the flies said. But they buzzed too softly and were drowned out by the swell of applause.
And so, the working groups were worked, the consultation groups were consulted, the advisory groups were advised, the committees were committed and the sub-committees were sub-committed and a new web was built. One year later, the bugs came together to review the progress.
“According to the stats I have gathered from my, um, ‘centralized intake’,” the spider said wiping his fangs, “this has been our most successful year so far.”
“Really?” said the termites.
“Really!” the spider said.
“It’s kind of weird that the flies aren’t here,” said the rolly-pollies.
“Totally,” said the spider, trying to muffle a belch.
“Yeah, they usually want to say ‘I told you so’ or something at these meetings,” the rolly-pollies continued.
“I always found them to be real downers,” said the termites.
“Yeah,” the spider said. “Besides, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”
“Huh?” said the termites and the rolly-pollies.
“Oh, it’s just a silly little saying,” said the spider.
“Oh, hahaha,” laughed the termites and the rolly-pollies.
“Ready for the next RFP?” asked the spider.
The bugs applauded. Eventually, the spider ate them all. And then he died, too.
THE END