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 Unjustified Fears  (5 ratings)by Fernando Sorrentino Page 1 of 2 I'm not very sociable, and often I forget about my friends. After
letting two years go by, on one of those January days in1979 - they're so hot -
I went to visit a friend who suffers fromsomewhat unjustified fears. His name
doesn't matter; let's call him - just call him - Enrique Viani.
On a certain Saturday in March, 1977, his life changedcourse. It seems that, while in the living room of his house, near thedoor to the balcony, Enrique Viani saw, suddenly, an "enormous" - according to him - spider on his right shoe. No soonerhad he had the thought this was the biggest spider he'd seen inhis life, when, suddenly leaving its place on his shoe, the animalslipped up his pants leg between the leg and the pants. Enrique Viani was - he said - "petrified." Nothing so disagreeable had ever happened to him. At that instant he recalled two principles he had read somewhere or other, which were: 1) that, without exception, all spiders, even the smallest ones, carry poison, and can inject it; and, 2) that spiders only sting when they feel attacked or disturbed. It was plain to see, that huge spider must surely have plenty of poison in it, the fullstrength toxic type. So, Enrique Viani thought the most sensible thing to do was hold stock still, since at the least move of his, the insect would inject him with a definitive dose of deadly poison. So he kept rigid for five or six hours, with the reasonable hope that the spider would eventually leave the spot it had taken up on his right tibia; clearly, it couldn't stay too long in a place where it couldn't find any food. As he came up with this optimistic prediction, he felt that, in deed, the visitor was starting to move. It was such a bulky, heavy spider that Enrique Viani could feel - and count - the footfalls of the eight feet - hairy and slightly sticky - across the goose flesh of his leg. But, unfortunately, the guest was not leaving; instead, it nested, with its warm and throbbing cephalothorax and abdomen, in the hollow we all have behind our knees. Up to here we have the first - and, of course, fundamental - part of this story. After that there came some not very significant variations: the basic fact was that Enrique Viani, afraid of getting stung, insisted on keeping stone still as long as need be, despite his wife and two daughters' pleas for him to abandon the plan. And so, they came to a stalemate where no progress was possible. Then Graciela - the wife - did me the honor of calling me in to see if I could resolve the problem. This happened around two in the afternoon: I was a bit annoyed to have to give up my one siesta of the week and I silently cursed out people who can't manage their own affairs. Once over at Enrique Viani's house, I found a pathetic scene: he stood immobile, though not in too stiff a pose, rather like parade rest; Graciela and the girls were crying. I managed to keep myself calm and tried to calm the three women as well. Then I told Enrique Viani that if he agreed to my plan, I could make quick work of the invading spider. Opening his mouth just the least bit, so as not to send the slightest quiver through his leg muscle, Enrique Viani wondered: "What plan?" I explained. I'd take a razor blade and make a vertical slit downwards in his pants leg till I came to the spider, without even touching it. Once this was done, it would be easy for me to hit it with a rolledup newspaper, knock it to the floor and then kill it or catch it. "No, no," muttered Enrique Viani, desperate, but trying to restrain himself. "The pants leg will move and the spider will sting me. No, no, that's a terrible idea." Stubborn people drive me up the wall. Without boasting, I can say my plan was perfect, and here this wretch who'd made me miss my siesta just up and rejects it, for no serious reason and, to top it off, he's snotty about it. "Then I don't know what on earth we'll do," said Graciela. "And just tonight we have Patricia's fifteenth birthday party ..." "Congratulations," I said, and kissed the birthday girl. ". . and we can't let the guests see Enrique standing there like a statue." "Besides, what will Alejandro say." "Who's Alejandro?" "My boyfriend," Patricia, predictably, answered. "I've got an idea!" exclaimed Claudia, the little sister. "We can call Don Nicola and. . . ." I want it clear that I wasn't exactly wild about Claudia's plan and had nothing to do with its being adopted. In fact, I was dead set against it. But everyone else was heartily in favor of it and Enrique Viani was more enthusiastic than anyone. Copyright © 1999, 2000, 2001 Fernando Sorrentino, sffworld.com. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the author. The author has submitted the work in accordance with and in agreement with the following Submission Guidelines. |
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