Chapter 8: Strange Tastes in Pets
I rushed down the stairs to slay the dreaded pest that had ensnared my mother.
I had half expected to see a little-bitty spider but what I saw crawling beneath her bed made me inadvertently yell out, "Holy mother of ham!"
As if on cue, Hamu's faint words tickled my ears, "Isn't she cute?"
"That thing is a 'she'?"
"Hmm... whatever. I'm calling her Spidey."
Her pet tarantula was about half as big as my head with mostly black fur with streaks of yellow.
Hamu stuck her own hand out and then, as if drawn forth by an invisible will, Spidey ambled up to her shoulder where it appeared to sit very still.
"I think it likes me." She giggled, and with a look of devout innocence she asked, "Can we keep it?"
Suddenly, my mother's anxious voice could be heard from behind her bedroom door, interrupting my reply, "Have you killed it yet?"
I gave Hamu a deep look and with a reluctant sigh, I nodded.
If I said no this time, who knows what creepy, crawly thing she might choose to adopt next.
"I think its gone mom." I lied, "I saw something dart out the window."
My mother tiptoed into the room and looked about. The massive Tarantula sitting on Hamu's shoulder was now invisible.
If Hamu wanted to hide something, all she had to do was touch it.
My mother's anxious face gradually shone with relief.
"You know your father was just like you. He wasn't afraid of anything. I'll never forget the day he introduced me to his pet anaconda." She looked towards the window as a reminiscent smile graced her lips, "It was the first time I visited his rundown apartment in the heart of Tokyo. He dragged it out of a glass terrarium and wrapped it around my shoulders. His voice was a whisper, when told me not to be afraid."
"Were you scared?" I asked.
"I was petrified. Before I knew it I was screaming and... and I don't remember what happened next. I might have fainted."
The happy look she had now was incongruous with the story she had just told me.
My mother continued to stare out the window, as if she were peering into the past. Her lips quivered, but her eyes glistened with delight.
Even I could tell that she cherished every memory she had of my father.
I quietly left the room, leaving my mother alone so she could enjoy her reverie.
I went up to my bedroom and pulled out a bunch of consoles from the closet where I would have put all my fashionable clothes, if I had any.
Some of those consoles had long lost the colorful, metallic sheen of their plastic cases, having originally been a part of my father's classic game collection.
If I could identify one thing Hamu and I had in common, it would be that we were both easily bored.
We cycled through a dozen different games until we settled on one of her favorite series. The classic, 'House of the Dead'.
The irony of playing a game where the focus was killing a horde of restless, undead creatures was completely lost on her.
Although we did play it a little differently. In two player mode, I would target all the zombies while she would 'mercifully' hunt down the uninfected.
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