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Among these arenaceous matters

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Satisfaction are sometimes easily achieved from nonsensical moments that people waste their time in and call it 'fragments of life'. Satisfaction comes from random things, as familiar as they can get from ordinary interactions with casual occurrences, yet at certain instances being ridiculously exquisite if there was enough meticulousness rendered to the scrutiny of such regularities.

It is like this...

Velvety hair being caressed by soft breezes, sunlight kissing tanned skin, mellow tastes of fine wine dribbling down the esophagus while a few drops still remain on the luscious lips,... Everything they enjoy are attained by the damnation of anything anthropocentric.


It was a tranquil afternoon in which two melancholic photospheres banally fell down to the darkening horizon from afar, with faded clouds floating on the bluest shade of the sky like they were going to solvate into faint pellucidity of that humid atmosphere on the dry planet - yes, another mundane day in this interminable sequels of malaise that have no remedy (or maybe the cure was not discovered yet). Little Hyacinth, still an early adolescent boy at that time, tried to approach his Boss in the most humble manner as he could portray, with nimble footsteps swiftly landed on the cold metal surface until he reached his target of adoration and bowed his head, one lithe leg bent lying down and another one had its sole positioned on the floor supporting his submissive posture - a refined cat-like genuflection. He defined elegance by every movements, truly gratification to the eyes.

His Master, Apollo of a glowing sun with eyes of sapphire, while carelessly glimpsing at that hazy azure summer sky above their heads, did not miss a motion of his follower, who was by then already eager to start a conversation.

"Master, are you bored?"

"I am not, but you certainly are."

The boy bit his lip in embarrassment as he knew his childish intention of luring his Lord into a talk was stripped after that reply. He had been stripped forcefully before, but he thought all those years of his previous life would have had blurred the recognition of shame in him, yet he found himself being intimidated easily with this new Owner instead, not by fear perception nor romantic tendencies, nor rapid infatuation nor lustful desires; he just wanted to appreciate this ethereal anthropomorphic sophistication (mayhap he should not indicate his Signore's characteristics in order not to provoke anger from such madcap Being, despite paradoxically obvious resemblances between Him and the species He loathed). The admiration was too overwhelming it consumed the kid and he enjoyed it wholeheartedly.

Fool, Apollo thought so, another spider driven by its desire for connection. Half of him did not want to continue chattering with the brat out of arrogance and a feeling of superiority being an adult against a human child, half of him found himself no more mature than the brat.

"What do you want to say?"

"Do you consider humans to be similar to onions, Sir?" The young opportunist grabbed that single chance of a possible chat in a split second.

"An onion is not a critter..."

"That's not what I meant..."

Since the day he picked up this problematic juvenile from that abomination of a crooked town, Apollo had always found himself - both of them, actually - having difficulties during verbal exchanges which they did not carry off casually. Maybe the little spider was somewhat autistic; maybe Apollo, after all those years of negligence in forming associations, had forgotten what proper communication between individuals was like. He just simply no longer cared.

But with the oddities in those unexpected speeches that he was subconsciously invited in occasionally, guess he would not mind a bit of frivolous pontification.

"Onions, you said? How are humans supposed to be similar to onions?"

"Well," - Little Hyacinth lowered his gaze, followed with a hasty rant, "they emit repellent stimuli that disgust you just by their presences. Their scents are abhorrently conspicuous and if they approach you within a distance close enough, you can feel them irritate your eyes.

And while you might want to evade from interactions with such provocative onions, yet out of curiosity, you end up pulling off layers and layers of their shells in order to find out that their bulbs are the most concentrated parts of lachrymatory factor - the most repugnant parts, definitely.

By then, you probably want to cook them up because a raw onion won't work on a fine dining dish, just like how humans' relationship won't work out if all of them are alive."

"So, your point is?"

"It's either you or they disappear, otherwise it won't work out."

"'Disappear', you meant 'completely eliminated'?"

"Yes, that was what I meant. A raw onion is like a raw human; both are disgusting and only get better after being cooked." Wait, that sounded cannibalistic somehow. "A living chunk of meat called human is an anathema indeed."

The determination in his declamation amused Apollo, quite surprising as he had rarely been amused before yet ironically this tiny sponger was somehow able to bring out the most appropriate phrases that Apollo enjoyed heartily even though those words were not expected, as least not consciously expected.

"That's an extreme hedgehog's dilemma you have there."

"Maybe, Sir."

"Maybe that is also applicable to us. I might get bored with you soon, and so might you." - with his head slightly lifted up out of curiosity, the boy could see his exquisite Seignor staring at him in such a delicate manner (that made his heart tingling subtly) and suddenly smiled (which He had rarely done before; it was mostly bitter smirks that He painted on His gorgeous face), "What if I eliminate you then?"

He wanted to response with something genuine, but the words kept lingering around his tongue and froze before they could escape from his lips. Silence of a lamb kneeling before his God, not exactly, perhaps more akin to a creatural parasite of a filthy human with anthropoid cognition who had actualized the meaning of his existence within this formalistic world. That is true; his Deity exists among these concrete entities.

"You can eliminate me right now if you feel pleased with my disappearance, Master." - he finally reconnected his vague thoughts together barely enough to form a proper answer, "Please don't devalue yourself like that."


"I will never, never get bored with you, my Boss. You're not like those humans. You're not… human."

"I see." - a calm response of no vivid emotion portrayed; not an expected yet a predictable outcome. Apollo could tell right away that this minuscule rascal did not concern much as he failed to notice that there was no way for Apollo to acknowledge whether that elimination would please him or not without doing the actual murder, but there was no need to ramble on about it. "Are you done blabbering yet?"

"Yes, I'm done."

"Good. This is enough for now."

Little Hyacinth, by the time Apollo finished his sentence that marked the end of those unspoken pleonasms on trivialities, could see a grin that did not last for long on his Superior's face that left him in uncertainty of whether he imagined it or not, yet the softness in His voice made the boy decided that it was appropriate for them to engage in another conversation as savory as this one in other delicious incidents.

What a clumsy yet cute attempt to deliver adulation, an bizarre honesty that could be easily read through the enthusiasm written on his innocent face and servile attitude (in which the boy himself did not recognize those remaining traits). Through the psychic ability of affective component reading, every bit of Apollo's ego was buoyed up with the feeling of satisfaction that caused him to slightly shiver in delight. This, ladies and gentlemen and nobody, this is how one's pride got pampered, by puerile gestures rooted from hero worship in which it was more precise to call that devotion by the name of 'attachments disorder'. Say, in this lonely world of endless humdrum while lacking the accompaniment of the brother Apollo had regard for, why not keeping for oneself a source of recreation during the wait?

In the end, that thing was not bad for a spider.