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exceptions.”
    “ How about
nachos?”
    “ No, sir.”
    The spider commander slammed down the phone.
Starving, he put a bag of popcorn into the microwave. He salivated
at the thought of the extra butter and salt promised on the fine
print of package. When the popcorn was ready, the spider commander
plopped down on the couch to enjoy the game and have a beer.
    “ Go Yankees!” he shouted at
the TV screen. Between innings, the spider commander gave some
thought to the fears of cultural contamination. “Idiocy! The
Emperor is afraid we are all becoming Americans. So what? The
Empire should seize the best and discard the worst of the lands it
conquers. That will make the Empire even stronger. There is nothing
to fear! It’s under control.”
     
    * * * * *
     
    The Angry Onion Tavern was packed with
customers watching the World Series on a big-screen TV. They dined
on beer and hotdogs. There would have been even more customers
watching, but the tavern was still off-limits to the Arthropodan
military. The MDL painted down the middle of the tavern floor
divided the noisy American side from the quieter Arthropodan side.
It was a stark contrast.
    Guido was still on duty at the border
crossing, so he set up a satellite dish TV outside his guard shack
and pointed it across the MDL for his spider guard friends. Spider
border guards gathered to cheer for the Yankees. Guido accepted
last-minute bets right up until the first pitch.
    “ It figures you spiders
would be betting on the Evil Empire to win this game,” said Guido.
“Go Boston!”
    The rowdy crowd of spiders booed Guido and
gave him the one-fingered salute. Everyone was having a good time
rooting for the Yankees until late in the game when an Arthropodan
marine team leader strode up to the MDL.
    “ What goes on here?” asked
the team leader. “Is anyone bothering to patrol the border
today?”
    “ Not on our side,” said
Guido. “Since there’s no more truck traffic, there is nothing to
do. We’re all just watching the World Series.”
    “ What’s the score?” asked
the team leader.
    “ Seven to five, New York in
the seventh inning,” answered Guido. “But their pitcher is getting
tired.”
    “ Yes!” said the team
leader. “New York is money in the bank. Now everyone get back to
work! Protecting the border from the human pestilence is a serious
matter! Don’t you know there is a no-fraternization order in
effect?”
    The spider border guards dispersed until the
team leader left. Then, most returned for the rest of the game. The
Evil Empire (New York Yankees) won eight to seven in the tenth
tie-breaker inning.
     
    * * * * *
     
    A large human carrying a pizza box entered
the spider commander’s office and placed the pizza on the
commander’s desk. He was accompanied by a small spider wearing
sunglasses and a fedora.
    “ That smells like a
pepperoni and sausage pizza with extra cheese,” commented the
spider commander. “Poor timing, the game is over. Who are
you?”
    “ I am Carlos O’Neil,”
replied the large human. “I am the Teamsters business agent for
local #107 here in New Gobi City. This is my associate, Mr.
Kennworth. I heard you were refused delivery of a pizza, so I came
by to make amends.”
    The spider commander opened the pizza box
slightly. It contained a delicious pizza and a bundle of cash. He
quickly closed the box. “I’ll bet you want the border
reopened.”
    “ We have trucks parked
along the freeway for miles on both sides of the MDL,” said Carlos.
“It would be nice.”
    “ And if I refuse?” asked
the spider commander.
    Mr. Kennworth opened the pizza box and
removed a pizza slice with a long jagged knife. He ate the pizza
delicately, savoring each bite. “That is not an option,” he
explained.
    “ I see,” said the spider
commander, giving thought to just shooting these two fools. But, he
was planning on opening the border to traffic soon anyway, and that
pizza looked too good to risk spilling human