Fat & Bones Read Online Free Page A

so great that he couldn’t swallow. Spit began to collect in the corners of his mouth.
    He was not a normal spider, so why had he tried to be? His plan could only ever have ended badly. He should have known he would bungle a rescue attempt. He was a failure at spiderhood; he should have admitted as much. Furthermore, the spider in the corner had not roused. Leonard began to doubt whether the poor creature had any life left in him at all.
    Leonard knew he would die today; he would die this moment.
    And would that be so bad? He had nothing to lose. No one would mourn him. And that was sadder than actually dying. Leonard wanted to be missed.
    I’m not ready to die, he decided. I need to find someone to love.
    And once he figured that out, he got sort of brave.
    Shaking, he pushed aside the knife.
    â€œNo,” he said.
    â€œWhat?” said Fat, staring at the knife in surprise.
    â€œNo,” said Leonard. He thrust his feet upward in an attempt to right himself—not a graceful movement but an effective one. He stood facing the fairy.
    â€œNo?” said Fat.
    â€œThat’s what I said.”
    â€œNo what?” said Fat.
    â€œJust no,” said Leonard.
    â€œYou can’t say, ‘just no,’” said Fat. “I have a knife.” He held the weapon up again.
    Leonard sensed Fat’s annoyance, his confusion, and homed in on them. He knew what he needed to do. He might have been a lousy spider, but he was an above average poet.
Fairy, you winged patutem, spangly voo,
Thy shredded heart, like vaporish splantshine
Does unto earth like the beast of the moo
The ungreen plate of your bonderoo dine
A cud and a cud and a cud and a cud.
    Fat spat on the floor. “Are you trying to recite poetry? You’re terrible! And there’s no such word as splantshine.” He pursed his lips. “Though you do have a knack for rhyme.”
    Leonard continued:
Fast like the wind on a sperry pink flate
Your dank blackened mubgaw stinks like the fud
You hate the stars, you hate the sun, you hate—
But hate—it won’t win—for love came here first
To the splight ball of blue, spinning in space
This giant tiny thinker dink of thirst
On which we all spin at a vash-bash pace.
Here, know, that no skander-winged puck, shall live
Apart from the holy call to—
    With stealth of a kind that Leonard could never match, the captive spider slid behind Fat, gazing at Leonard over Fat’s shoulder with the most beautiful green eyes Leonard had ever seen. Here was not a male spider, as Leonard had supposed. No, here was an Aphrodite.
    Leonard was tongue-tied.
    Unaware that his former captive stood a breath behind him, Fat tapped his brow with the knife. “How about convive? No, that doesn’t quite work, does it.” He scrunched his mouth and studied the ceiling. “Apart from the holy call to … active?”
    The other spider, whose name was Priscilla Mae, tapped Fat on the shoulder.
    Fat spun around, but Priscilla Mae sidestepped behind him. She had snuck out the door, into the night, before Fat had time to register the empty corner of the room.
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    â€œUnbelievable!” shouted Fat, turning back to Leonard. “You spiders sure stick together, don’t you? One spouts god-awful poetry while the other breaks free.”
    Leonard was pleased beyond measure by the turns of events. He smiled uncontrollably.
    Fat moved quickly, brandishing the knife. “You owe me blood, arachnid.” He drove the blade deep into Leonard’s front right leg.
    Leonard staggered back from pain, crumpling to the floor.
    Fat fetched a beaker and set it beneath the wound, patting down Leonard’s leg hairs so they wouldn’t disrupt the flow.
    â€œVery good,” Fat murmured after some time. “A most excellent burgundy. Really excellent. And not a bad consistency, either.”
    Leonard began to feel lightheaded. “Excellent.”
    â€œThat’s