Here's a little teaser from my LHNB story. Enjoy!
“It went under the bed,” Robbie murmured, pointing at the bed across the room—which had yet to be made at six in the evening. Leaving that gripe for after he corralled their unwanted arachnid guest, Trip weaved through the valley of sharp, angular toys and made it to the bed unscathed. He got down on his knees and lifted the comforter hanging off the side.
“For crying out loud, Robbie, there’s more stuff under your bed than out here. Did you leave anything in the closet? I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a nest under here.” Robbie let out a whimper and Trip rolled his eyes, glancing over at the pup and trying not to laugh at his little worried face. “Relax, there’s no nest.” He shifted his gaze back under the bed and saw something move. “Aha! I’ve got you now you little sucker. I don’t know what you’re so scared of, Robbie, it’s not that big.”
“It is so! It’s like one of those facehuggers from Aliens. What if I’m asleep and it jumps on my face and tries to lay eggs in my tummy and then it bursts from my chest all argh!” Robbie dramatically threw himself back against his desk’s chair, his tongue poking out one side of his mouth as he made gurgling noises, his body twitching.
“That’s the last time I let you stay up to watch a Sci-fi marathon.” The movement stopped. Taking the cardboard, Trip slowly slipped it under the bed toward the black lump, only to poke it and realize it was a balled up sock. What the hell? Something shifted beside it—something much bigger. It turned and darted right for him.
“Holy fudge!” Trip shot away from the bed, managing to curb the copious amounts of colorful swear words ready to roll off his tongue. Scrambling, he climbed onto the bed in a manner which could only be described as astoundingly undignified, losing one of his socks in the process. Getting to his feet, he wobbled on the bed a moment before finding his balance, his plastic container out in front of him like a shield and the piece of cardboard brandished in his right hand like a sword. He was ready for battle.
“There it is, dad!” Robbie squealed and Trip gave a start.
Robbie frantically pointed at the huge hairy black spot in the middle of the blue carpet. “There!”
“Oh my Gods,” Trip gagged. “What is that? That is the most revolting thing I have ever seen.”
“What about when grandpa Hagan lost his swim trunks at the lake?”
“You’re right. This is the second most revolting thing I have ever seen.”
Robbie swiped a book off his desk, ready to hurl it.
“Hey, don’t throw your math book.”
Dropping his math book on the desk, Robbie swapped it for Trip’s tablet.
“Throw the math book! Throw the math book!”
Robbie obliged, picking up the hefty hardback and chucking it across the room. It landed like a tee-pee over the spider. They held their breaths. Pages ruffled and seconds later the spider leisurely crawled out. “It’s still alive, dad! What do we do?”
“What is that thing made of? All right, that’s it. Ain’t no eight legged creep gonna get the best of Tristan Hagan.”
“Go, dad!’ Robbie cheered him on.
Trip inched closer to the foot of the bed when the beast turned toward him and leapt forward. “Holy shit, it jumps!” He scrambled back until his back hit the wall behind him.
“You said a curse word,” Robbie admonished, wagging a finger at him.
“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry. But, did you see that?” Trip’s smart phone rang in his pocket and he shuffled his weapons into his left hand to grab it, pressing it against his ear. “Brook?”
“Trip? What’s wrong?”
“Put her on speaker phone,” Robbie demanded. “Mom! Mom! There’s a huge spider in my room and it looks like one of the facehuggers from Aliens!”
“What have we told you about watching those Sci-fi marathons?”
“You sound like dad. Why are you fighting with me when you should be fighting the Aliens?”
“It’s a spider,” Trip clarified.
“A mutant spider that probably has mutant babies,” Robbie added.
Brook sighed. “He gets that from you, you know.”
“No, but seriously, Brook, the thing is fugly.”
“No one says fugly anymore.”
“I just did.”
“Yeah, well, you’re a nerd.”
“Aw, thanks, babe. I gotta go now. Got aliens to kill. Don’t worry, if I end up an incubator for mutant spider babies, I’ll remember the good times we had.” When Brook next spoke, he could hear the smile in her voice.
“Do you want me to send Deacon over? He’ll be home in about fifteen minutes.”
“Hm, do I want to emasculate myself further by having my ex-wife’s husband come kill a spider for me?”
“Dad, it’s moving again!”
“Fifteen minutes you say? That’ll work for me. He can let himself in. Tell him to bring his shovel. And a blowtorch.”