Laroche sneered, “I won’t promise you nothing of the kind.”
Angie yelled, “Why should I go then.”
“Gwillym, go fetch the folks in for a party.”
Angelina Davis fell to the floor in front of the hideous creature and stretched her hands out towards it. “I’ll go, please, please don’t hurt them.”
Laroche giggled, “I thought you’d see it my way. Well get up on your feet, we’ve got to leave now.”
Angie stood up on trembling legs, “I thought you said I could bring my toothbrush?”
Leandre snarled, “That’s before you started getting all snotty on me. Now get over to that far wall and wait for me.”
“Say Leandre,” Gwillym put on the bravest face he could muster, “Do you think if I have a new poem for the Master, that he’ll go easy on me.”
“Depends on how good the poem is,” Laroche’s tone was softer this time. “Let her rip old boy, let her rip.”
Gwillym marched into the center of the room, pushed his boney chest out and his thin shoulders back.
“Come into my parlour
said the spider to the fly.
The old grizzled arachnid
delighted in every mournful cry.
She wound silky threads
around his fluttering wings.
As he struggled to get free,
he looked around at all the other things
caught fast in this web of deceit.
Lying wasted, lying dead,
ready for the fat spider to eat.
Katydids, a chickadee and a dragon fly.
All caught by sticky silk,
as they were sailing by.
The weary fly stopped his fight
and he ceased to care.
With one last mournful thought,
he surrendered up his tiny soul
to the other side of nowhere.”