Slinking into the derelict Katz Motel, Katz cannot help but smile (although he’s terribly sore from being swallowed by a fucking shark, all thanks to that stupid dog!) at the sight of his snapping babies. Although he knows they’re probably hungry and agitated at the sudden light from the hallway, Katz does not fear them as they approach. He does not flinch as hairy limbs encase him, holding him tightly as he removes his glasses.
He doesn’t say a word, as he’s shoved into the desk chair.
His babies don’t talk and at times, like now, he’s grateful. They can’t ask him what happened or where’s dinner when he returns empty-handed (or, as now, when he returns reeking of the ocean and of a shark’s innards). Instead, they can only listen and give him—what he hopes—is love and understanding. He hears clicking and he sighs.
“Sad, isn’t it?” Katz mutters to his babies. “Once again, I was bested by a dog. Mamma would be so terribly disappointed if she knew I let a dog best me.” He hears clicking again and Katz leans forward in the desk chair, frowning. He hasn’t thought about his family in years, but the continuation of his failures forces him to recall the rejection from his family, all those years ago. He wonders, as he sits in one of his many failures, if failure is the only thing he’ll ever know. If rejection is the only thing he’ll ever feel. “I’m not the best of company tonight, I’m afraid.”
He feels a limb settle upon his knee.
“I feel like I’ve failed you all,” he whispers into the darkness. His loves click, the angry (or what he thinks is angry; it’s hard to tell with spiders) sounds filling the room and Katz cannot help but gently pet one of his beauties. “I’ve not brought home food in weeks and as hard as I try, I cannot seem to do anything right.” Katz’s stomach churns. “I wanted to destroy Sub Standards so badly too.” He doesn’t know how his babies would have survived underwater, if his plan had succeeded, but he just knows he’s disappointed and he’s numb. “And look how that turned out. I was swallowed whole by a shark and that stupid, little dog survived! I hate dogs.” He also hates anything which doesn’t resemble the eight-legged creatures before him too, because everyone else rejects him. Everyone else makes a case of how bad he is, when he only wants to be accepted.
He also wants so badly to succeed too and honestly, he doesn’t see the problem if it costs a few lives in the process. His loves, after all, must eat to survive.
(It’s also not like anyone in Nowhere is worth sparing, regardless of the stupid dog’s loyalty to a family, who will more-than-likely abandon and/or reject him one day. As far as he’s considered, the town is full of nothing but imbeciles better suited to spider chow.)
Katz hears clicking again and instead of sighing, he smiles sadly at the noncommunicative language. “I cannot understand a word of what you’re saying, my loves, but thank you for not rejecting me.” He bends over again, his lips skimming the top of the spider’s head. “For being my family.” They all begin to click again and though he cannot understand them, he thinks they’re probably telling him (in their own way) that they love him too, followed by the same-old we’re hungry. He chuckles and goes to stand, grabbing his glasses in haste. He didn’t get this far by letting failure and rejection keep him down, even if he knows he’ll probably never succeed with the pesky Courage in the picture. However, he’s willing to try again—especially if it means his only family remains alive. “How about we get you some dinner, loves? I think Katz Motel is in a dire need of a refurbish, after all.”
He smiles as he picks up the landline.