Thursday, November 16, 2006
There is a tarantula in our bathroom
When I returned to our bedroom last night after chatting and typing in the main room, Levi was on the top bunk, reading "Wicked," which he highly recommends.
"I have good news and I have bad news," he said. "Which do you want to hear first?" For those of you who don't know Levi very well, let me interpret: "I have really bad news. There is no good news."
The good news was that you could get really good reading light on the top bunk. "Oh no," I said. "Do I want to hear the bad news?"
"I wasn't going to tell you," he said. "But there's a tarantula in the bathroom."
Not a cute, fuzzy baby tarantula who got lost on her way home to Mommy. A big daddy tarantula. Thick, hairy legs and fatty body tarantula. Levi had drunk about a fourth of a bottle of rum by the time he spotted our new roommate, and as he described it, it seemed they had a bonding moment.
"He was so scared, it was so sad," he said. "I flicked my towel at him, and he scurried away. I flicked my towel again, and he scurried a little less. Then I flicked my towel again, and he didn't really scurry. How could I kill him after he trusted me like that?"
***
About that bottle of rum: On our way to the beach the other day, Levi offered to run to the pulperia to buy some goodies. He asked what I wanted, and I said that some bread and juice would be fantastic. He returned with a liter of pineapple juice, a small packet of Oreo cookies and a bottle of rum.
"Rum? For the beach?" I said.
"It was so cheap, you have no idea," he replied, holding up his purchase proudly. "Ten dollars for the five year old bottle. I was going to get the cheaper bottle, but I only want the best for my girl."
"I have good news and I have bad news," he said. "Which do you want to hear first?" For those of you who don't know Levi very well, let me interpret: "I have really bad news. There is no good news."
The good news was that you could get really good reading light on the top bunk. "Oh no," I said. "Do I want to hear the bad news?"
"I wasn't going to tell you," he said. "But there's a tarantula in the bathroom."
Not a cute, fuzzy baby tarantula who got lost on her way home to Mommy. A big daddy tarantula. Thick, hairy legs and fatty body tarantula. Levi had drunk about a fourth of a bottle of rum by the time he spotted our new roommate, and as he described it, it seemed they had a bonding moment.
"He was so scared, it was so sad," he said. "I flicked my towel at him, and he scurried away. I flicked my towel again, and he scurried a little less. Then I flicked my towel again, and he didn't really scurry. How could I kill him after he trusted me like that?"
***
About that bottle of rum: On our way to the beach the other day, Levi offered to run to the pulperia to buy some goodies. He asked what I wanted, and I said that some bread and juice would be fantastic. He returned with a liter of pineapple juice, a small packet of Oreo cookies and a bottle of rum.
"Rum? For the beach?" I said.
"It was so cheap, you have no idea," he replied, holding up his purchase proudly. "Ten dollars for the five year old bottle. I was going to get the cheaper bottle, but I only want the best for my girl."
