W is for a Web of Intrigue . . . . . or (Spius Thrillerum Suspensos)

(Part One)

Every child in the World has heard of the Tangerine Flea of New Guinea and it's amazing skills at fishing, but not so many are aware of the equally amazing Intrigue Spider of Patagonia (Spius Thrillerum Suspensos). Yes this little spider gets its name from its web, the so called Web of Intrigue. A web so complex that any critter foolish enough to succumb to the underlying plot will be sucked into it, only to find they are baffled and confused when they discover that the man in the raincoat is not the husband of the woman in the café. And that the old man watching the shop once played the piano in a bar in Berlin back in the days of the cold war. This of course is all just too much for a humble fly or beetle, and as they try and escape they find themselves just a side dish in the great scheme of things where Boris having agreed to a spy exchange walks slowly down a wet alley and climbs into a black Mercedes driven by Irene Van-Dagraph the singer in the night club.  Irene turning to Boris to say . . . . The Flies dead Boris, he had his brains sucked clean out. . . . Boris smiles and replies . . . That Spider is good, damn good, but one day someone is going to stamp on him hard. As the car vanishes into the mist a small spider can be seen spinning its web on a plain brown paper bag left discretely near the third window from the right on the old MI5 building, a small microphone protruding from the top.

Two young botanists from the local college stop and look intently at the bag and one says Gosh I’m sure that’s the amazing Intrigue Spider of Patagonia (Spius Thrillerum Suspensos). His friend looks startled and shouts . . . .  RUN . . . . . . But it is too late, they are bundled into the back of a white van which drives off into the night at speed.  The only witness an old man who tells the police that he once played the piano in a bar in Berlin back in the days of the cold war. . . . .

As the old man walks home he bends down and carefully puts a small spider into an old matchbox, and as he does so the owner of the Italian coffee shop opposite shouts across the road . . . You still have it then . . . . The old man nods and turns into the park and through the undergrowth to his forest shack deep in the Patagonian rain forests. 

Link to Part Two