Tarantula Shoes by Tom Birdseye

Author:Tom Birdseye [Birdseye, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781497646087
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2014-07-15T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

The Fiercest Spider in the World

The next day after church, I ate lunch as fast as I could. Dad told me to slow down, to stop taking such big bites. He kept talking about the remodeling job he was starting the next day in a nearby town, “over in Booneburg.” He was going to go look at it again, even though it was Sunday, to double-check his materials list.

Mom worried that she wasn’t going to get all the unpacking and painting done before she had to start her bank job. “But I’ll get to your room, Ryan. Don’t worry.”

Justin and Ellie had found out from Mom that they would have to have shots before they could start kindergarten.

“It’s a law,” Ellie said.

Justin said, “We go to the doctor’s office tomorrow.”

They both looked nervous and wanted to know if the shots would hurt less if they shut their eyes and held their breath. “Did that help you, Ryan? Did you cry or run away?”

“I don’t remember,” I said, even though I really did. I was in a hurry, and despite everything that was going on, managed to get my meal down in record time.

It took a bit of explaining to Mom and Dad—especially Mom, who kept shaking her head and saying, “I don’t know about this Ryan”—but by 1:30 I had their permission to set up our family camping tent in the front yard. I put Fang’s terrarium inside on the card table, then covered it with a cloth napkin.

I made two new signs, adding the words DEADLY POISONOUS and a drawing of Fang to what Gordon had already written. (Fang was deadly poisonous … if you were a cricket.) Then I thumbtacked the signs on either side of a telephone pole, so people would be sure to see them no matter which way they came down Sycamore Street.

Counting the three quarters I’d made the day before, I’d figured on Mom’s calculator that I needed only $25.14 more to get my Slam Dunk Sky Jumpers. With my great spider show, it would be no sweat. I went inside to get into a costume: a T-shirt with Fang drawn on the front and a black bow tie and straw hat from the twins’ dress-up box.

“Step right up!” I yelled as I ran back out onto the front lawn. I waved my hat over my head. “See Fang the killer tarantula! Fiercest spider in the world! Feeding time in only ten minutes! Witness death for only a quarter! Dangerous spider handling, too! Step right up!”

It took a few minutes—enough time for me to start getting a little hoarse—but finally a boy walked around the corner onto Sycamore Street, heard me yelling, and came to investigate.

And just like that I had a customer. “Greatest show anywhere!” I yelled at two girls on bikes as I took the boy’s quarter and showed him where to sit on the tent floor. “Front-row seats still available!”

The girls rode up, looked at the sign and the tent, then asked if they had time to go get their friends.

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