The work was not a problem for Van Man. He could handle most anything. Then The Spiders came. They were mean and nasty. They were hairy and dangerous. They were everywhere. Under the bricks that were to be moved. Beneath the concrete slabs that had to be lifted. Inside the dirt that needed to be dug out. And they were hungry.
When Van Man had been a young fuck, he had seen a film about spiders terrorizing a small town. Arachnophobia was the title of that flick. Good title. The spiders in that film killed and preyed and killed some more. That was the lesson that Young Fuck Van Man learned. And years later, Van Man still knew that was what spiders do. They like that shit, he thought.
Van Man could not escape them. The Spiders surrounded him as he worked. A cruel joke to play on Van Man. He worked harder and the sweat poured down his face. The Spiders would crawl onto The Van Man's gloves and arms and he would fling them off and bash them good with a boot or a shovel. The gig had become a mini war. They were ghastly in appearance. Some were hairy black ones with white skulls on their backs. Some were fiery orange ones sent from the Devil himself. And still a few more were brown ones and Van Man knew those had to be Brown Recluses ready to fucking kill him. They're tryin' to get me, thought Van Man. And he was right. Before the day had ended, a Black Widow was unearthed. And it was angry. It wanted blood. The blood of the man who disturbed its sleep. Van Man dropped the concrete slab and crushed the monster.
The weekend arrived and The Heatwave Part II was in its second week of box office reign. Van Man had spent the night and following day swatting away invisible Spiders. They were on him. He knew it. The ghosts of The Spiders had come to haunt him. Halloween approached. And The Van Man had not even thought of a costume.