McAfee's Fable

Here's another submission from the illustrious Juan L. McAfee:

The Spider and the Butterfly: a Fable
by Juan McAfee

Hanging against the wall of his house made of spider webs, the Spider had hung a map of the world. A map littered with red thumbtacks. If one were to view the map while hovering high above his house, they would swear that had witnessed red polka dots on a hounds tooth scarf. Nevertheless, every night the Spider placed a red thumbtack on his map to remind him of what he had been saving all his life for: to travel the world.

This particular warm summer’s night, just when the Spider had closed his eyes to sleep, an explosive knock was heard at his door. “Bam, Bam, Rat-a-tat, Rat-a-tat.” The Spider looked up and around and thought to himself, “Why would Butterfly knock so hard on my door? It’s made of spider webs and I can see him very plainly. All he had to do was say, ‘Hey, Spider, it’s me, Butterfly.” But then Spider remembered that Butterfly was never known for his tact or brains.

“What can I do for you my good friend, Butterfly,” the Spider said sarcastically. If Butterfly weren’t so dense, he would have noticed it was said in a sarcastic tone.

“Well,” said Butterfly with his usual stuttering style of conversing, “I, I, I, was, was wondering if, if, if if, you could lend me a few, few, da, da, da, dollars, until payday next week?”

Being careful of his voice level in order not to seem rude, the Spider replied, “Aren’t you just returning from a trip from Brussels; and before that Cairo; and before that Osaka. I don’t understand? Ever time you get paid you fly off somewhere. Why would you travel to Brussels if you knew that when you returned you would not have enough money to last until payday?”

“Well, well, well, well, well, you, you, you see, Ever since, I, I, I, was a little caterpillar, I, I, I, was told by my, my, my, my mother, that it, it, it, it, is best to live life like there, there is no to, to, to, to, morrow.”

The Spider searched his heart and mind to find the right words so as to not seem rude to the naïve, little, stuttering Butterfly. “Well, my dear friend Butterfly, certainly your mother was a wise woman and it is a shame to think of how she was captured by a giant net and never returned to watch you grow. However, as a wise and older Spider, I must press upon you how important it is to save for a rainy day, not unlike today.”

“I, I, I, I don’t understand.” Said the Butterfly, looking bewilderedly and sadly into the Spider’s eyes.

“My money is hidden beneath the mound of dirt that I sleep on at night. If I can live life like a miser and save all my money in order to experience and enjoy my latter years in life so must you. I must politely and kindly ask you to leave, yet take with you this bit of advice. Save your pennies for a rainy day, for after a long hot summer, for after a long drafty fall, for after a long cold winter, a rainy spring will come”

The Butterfly felt a great emptiness within himself, which then filled with silence. He turned to fly away when suddenly he heard the irregular noise of thunder and lightning. Just as he began to take flight, he stop after hearing a loud clap with a mild thump that quickly followed. Just then the Butterfly turned around to see the Spider lying flat on his dirt mound. As the Butterfly flew toward the wheezing and lightly breathing Spider, who was enjoying his last breath of air, the Butterfly hovered above his neighbor and quietly stammered in his ear, “Some, some, some, sometimes it, it, it also rains in Summer.”