More writing by Bruce Taylor

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Kafka's Uncle,
Chapter One: Kafka Dreams

by Bruce Taylor

        Anslenot walks down the street with the flames gushing from the fire hydrant and the sky turning purple. Planes screech overhead and confused pilots fire upon their comrades. Anslenot realizes that he can never remember a time in his life with the world at peace. Always a war raging somewhere. He sits on a bench and watches the chaos; a big tarantula, wearing four pairs of cowboy boots, comes wandering up to him. "Howdy pardner," it hisses.

        "Hello, yourself," replies Anslenot.

        "Bitch of a day, ain't it?" says the spider. Anslenot isn't exactly sure how the spider does it, but it spits out what looks like tobacco juice. Anslenot doesn't know if spiders can spit or not. Maybe this tarantula has a special Tobacco Spit Gland. He is not sure.

        "Yeah," says Anslenot. "Sure is. No different than any other day."

        "Yup," says the tarantula. "Understand you like Kafka."

        Anslenot stares ahead. He watches the Bucket Rider sail across the sky, leaving a contrail of ice.

        "What business is that of yours?" says Anslenot. "How do you know?"

        "Lucky guess, pardner."

        "Quite a guess," says Anslenot.

        "You related to him?"

        "Not really," says Anslenot, "though I might as well be."

        "Why?" asks the spider.

        "Insane," says Anslenot, "utterly insane."

        "You? Me? Him? Everything?"

        "Yes," says Anslenot.

        "Which?"

        "Yes," replies Anslenot. He looks straight ahead. The contrail from the Bucket Rider has frozen; it falls around them like chunks of white coal. Anslenot looks at the spider. "Were you a man once?"

        "Nope," the spider says, "never was."

        "Were you an insect, metamorphized into a spider?"

        "Nope," says the spider, "No, siree, I is what I is. Arachnid with a Western Spin. Weaver of tall tales--at least for now. No guarantees how long this will last, pardner." The spider pauses, then, "What about you? What were you?"

        "Hopeful."

        "Huh," says the spider.

        Anslenot gestures to the chaos. "Once everything seemed hopeful."

        "General harshness of this society gettin' you down?"

        Anslenot sighs, looks at a burning building in the distance, caving in on itself which the firemen watch, and, for whatever reason, not putting it out. The spider turns to look in the direction Ansleot is staring. "Instant urban renewal interests you, pardner?"

        Anslenot shrugs.

        At that point,. a beautiful, white stallion with orange saddle comes galloping up the street. "Well," says the tarantula, "gotta get on my trusty steed."

        Anslenot watches as the tarantula tries to climb upon the horse, but just keeps falling off. Finally, the spider simply attacks the great, white horse; the spider bites, the horse falls. While the horse is still alive, the spider wraps it in silk and begins to drag it way; it turns to Anslenot. "Gonna eat tonight." It says. And long after the tarantula and the horse disappears into a nearby gutted building, long after the weak whinnyings of the horse give way to noisy sucking sounds, Anslenot looks around then gazes at the sky, only to see the stars--exploding.

 

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