Lesson 33- Feet go on the floor, not on the furniture.
I wake up and I can tell that I haven’t been asleep all that long. I also have no idea why I’m awake. Everything seems quiet. I’m almost back to sleep when I hear someone knocking at the door. Huh? Who would be here? Everyone ought to still be asleep. Yawning, I get to my feet, tuck my shiny gold coin into the waistband of my pyjama pants, and open my door and… There’s no one there. Was someone knocking at the back door? Should I even answer it if they are? Someone is still out to get me after all. But what if it’s Laura or something. It’s not like she can call ahead and tell me that she’s here. I’m standing in the middle of the hallway, totally conflicted about what to do when the knocking sound repeats, making me jump. Except… It doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the back door. Or any door. It repeats and I swear the sound is coming from below me. It takes my tired brain a moment to comprehend that.
“Jane?” I ask warily. The knocking repeats. Yeah, it’s definitely coming from below me. Alright, Jane must want something. I suppose knocking is a fairly polite way of asking for my attention. I wonder how big the basement actually is. For that matter, I wonder how big Jane is. I head back down to the bar and I can immediately see why Jane is knocking. Right in the middle of the bar, stuck to one of the pieces of fly paper is what I can only assume, is a dust sprite. A glance shows me the trap door is still closed, I have no idea how Jane knew that a sprite had been caught, but it was nice of her to let me know anyway. Maybe she heard it or something.
“Thanks Jane, I say excitedly as I approach the little sprite. Up close I can see it is about five inches tall and appears to be entirely made up of dust and bits of fluff. In a few of the less dense spots I can even see through it. I think the sprite is kind of cute and I start to feel bad for it, right up until the moment it sees me.
“Oi you damn human. What the hell is your problem? Do I come into your home and spread sticky stuff everywhere?” It demands angrily.
“Yes.” I answer flatly.
“Liar!” It accuses. I raise an eyebrow.
“I am not. You come in here and leave sticky dust footprints over every clean surface in the place!” I argue.
“So? This isn’t your home, it’s a bar. Besides, our artwork is beautiful, you should be thanking us for making the place look pretty. I don’t know why you keep ruining everything!” It whines.
“Actually, right now I’m living here, so this is my home.” I point out. The dust sprite scoffs at me and a little puff of dust leaves its mouth.
“But this isn’t a house!” it insists.
“No, but I’m stuck here anyway so I’m making the best of it. Look, it’s a lot of work for us to constantly clean the bar every night. Could you please stop leaving your… Artwork… All over it?” I try to keep my tone at least a little pleasant.
“We are making it BETTER!” The sprite glares at me and I sigh.
“Look, I understand that you’re trying to decorate, but even the prettiest decorations will look bad if you put them in the wrong place, and the bar is definitely the wrong place. Can’t you decorate somewhere else?” I plead.
“No. Don’t want to. Now let me go!” It yells.
“No, I don't want to.” I sass the creature and it huffs out dust again.
“But you HAVE to!” it whines. If its feet weren’t stuck to the flypaper right now, I suspect that it would be stomping its feet.
“Actually I don’t. I could squash you flat, or roll you up in more sticky paper and throw you out into the alley.” I threaten. The creature whimpers and I reel it back in a little.
“But I won’t, because I’m not that kind of person. I am going to let you go. But you need to stop leaving your artwork on the bar and tables. As long as you leave them alone, I'll leave you alone. But next time you decorate them, I’ll show you how I like to decorate. I’ll buy a ladder, climb up to the rafters and scrub them clean. I’ll dust every corner of this place until it’s immaculate.” I say with a dead serious face so the dust sprite knows that I’m serious. The sprite is quiet for a moment before collapsing to its knees like its legs won’t support it anymore. The little creature has burst into tears AND now its knees are also stuck to the fly paper.
“Noooo, no, no, no. Please don’t ruin our nest. Cruel human.” It cries. Little drops of mud made from dust and tears land on the fly paper in little grey smudges.
“Oh calm down. I won’t mess with your nest as long as you stop decorating the bar. I’ll find something else for you to decorate and give it to you in a few days, alright?” I offer, feeling oddly guilty. The dust sprite is so tiny, I feel like such a bully. I also kind of wish I had my phone because I would love to take a photo of this thing. It’s so cute! The sprite sniffs and looks up at me with big grey eyes.
“Really?” It says in a childish tone.
“Yes really. As I said, there’s a time and place for decorating. Now, let me help you get free.” I lecture in my best kindergarten teacher voice. Being as gentle as I can, I let the dust sprite wrap its arms around one of my thumbs and use the other hand to carefully peel the fly paper off of it. I then move the sticky paper to the side and place the little creature on the cleared space.
“Thank you.” It mutters grumpily.
“You’re welcome. I am going to clean up all the rest of these sticky papers, but remember, If you mess it up again, I’ll go on a cleaning binge and next time I’ll put out even more sticky papers.” I warn.
“Fine.” The dust sprite grumbles. Then it jumps off of the bar, rushes over to a wall and climbs up it, spiderman style. Hmm… The dust sprite looks a lot creepier like that. It’s kind of bug-like as it climbs. I may need to re-evaluate its cuteness.
I walk around the room and collect up all the fly paper sheets and stack them on eachother so that all the sticky sides are facing in. I did plan to wrap them in a plastic bag and leave them by the back door for Torin to take out to the dumpsters for me later, but as I pass Jane’s trap door, I hesitate.
“Hey Jane? Do you want these? I’ll throw them out if you don’t. I’m still a little unclear on what it is that you actually like to eat. Or even if you are eating these things. It’s possible you're hoarding them, or just crushing them. I have no idea…” I trail off when the trap door cracks open and a shadowy limb reaches towards me. It stops about a foot away from me and waits. I guess that’s a yes then? I place the fly paper gently on top of Jane’s arm and she retreats back into her home.
“Okay. Well, thanks Jane. I’m heading back to bed.” I tell her with a yawn. I stop in my new bathroom and scrub the fly paper glue residue off of my hands before stumbling back to bed, satisfied with my morning’s work and completely exhausted.
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