Blond

There she was. The tiny spider giggled to himself in glee. For days, weeks, months, he had watched the golden hair girl traipse up and down the long cement sidewalk. For an eternity her hair had fascinated him. A mass of spun gold and sunlight, the strands shimmered and glowed in the breeze as she passed.

Sometimes, the girl wore her hair straight and smooth, like waves of sun-bleached wheat blowing in the wind.

Sometimes, the girl wore her hair in golden curls. The spider imagined sliding down one of the curls, sliding and twisting and turning forever.

Sometimes her hair was in a ponytail, bouncing invitingly with each step. If only he could leap onto her silky tail and swing from strand to strand like an eight-legged Tarzan in a follicle jungle!

“If only I was blond!” the spider had lamented for months. “If only I had a golden mass of hair on my head! I too, would be happy and could take long walks in the sunlight, my hair beaming like a bronzed statue!”

The spider watched wistfully each days, as the girl with the golden hair would walk by him. He’d reach out gently, hoping to catch a wayward strand as it floated in the breeze. But the strands always eluded him, floating out of his grasp. They must go to heaven, he imagined. To heaven to string a lute of an angel, a violin of saints. Only hair like that could make it into heaven.

So the spider had watched, and he had waited. And now it was time.

The girl was walking by, and the breeze was perfect, just as he imagined. He took a deep breath, and he leapt. He leapt into the air and let the breeze carry him along. At the exact right moment, he threw a clear thread into the air. Just as he imagined, it caught the girl’s hair. Startled, she bent down. The spider beamed. This was the moment he’d been waiting for his entire life.

“Ew!” the girl screamed. “A spider!” The spider ran up the delicate silver strand and into the girl’s hair. He closed his eyes in joy when he rushed into the golden locks he’d admired for so long. Happily he placed them on his own head. “I’m blond!” he cried. “I’m finally blond!” The girl batted at her hair in a frenzied motion and was jumping up and down in panic. “Oh God!” she screamed. “There’s a spider in my hair!”

All the jumping caused the spider to fall, down, down from the beautiful strands. He caught his silver rope and swung back up into the other side of the hair. The girl screamed as he crawled up her hair towards her ear.

“I’m blond!” he cried ecstatically. “I’m blonde and beautiful! Look at my golden mane, my silky white locks.” He gathered the strands to his nose and breathed deeply as the girl shook her head frantically and raked her hands through her hair. Finally, her finger dragged the spider down the ground. As he stared up at the withering mass of gold, he beamed and hugged the strand he still clutched in his hand. The girl’s running footsteps faded in the distance as he hugged the strand and beamed. “I’m still blond,” he grinned.