If Arthropodans were shopping for Christmas, it meant they were also celebrating Christmas, and all had been lost. The governor was determined that the end of Arthropodan culture on New Colorado would not happen on his watch. Nor would the end be allowed to incubate on New Colorado and to spread to the rest of the Empire. The governor gave the order that Black Friday would be shut down on the Arthropodan side of Walmart.
By Thursday night, many spiders had already pitched tents and formed lines in the parking lot on the north side of the New Gobi Walmart. It was a festive social event. Friends from the outlying districts who had not seen each other since the first of the year at Walmart greeted each other with hugs and plotted shopping strategies. The good mood soured, however, when a company of Arthropodan tanks, armored cars, and infantry marines arrived and deployed between the crowd and the store.
“I am sorry,” announced the spider commander on a public address system. “Access to Walmart is closed. There will be no pre-Christmas shopping allowed at midnight, by order of the governor. The doors will remain locked.”
As a precaution, the front doors were chained and padlocked. The spider commander continued to explain to no avail that Christmas shopping was an American trick to impose Christmas on Arthropodan culture, and would not be allowed. The shoppers booed and hissed and drowned out the commander’s voice. As midnight approached, the crowd grew to thousands. They pressed in on the company of nervous spider marines.
At midnight, a Walmart employee and an Arthropodan marine team leader appeared inside the store and hung up a large ‘CLOSED’ sign on the glass doors. The crowd got louder and more militant, throwing shopping carts and asphalt chunks from the parking lot at the marine armor. However, after a while, the enthusiasm of the crowd started to wane. As the spider commander appealed to their sense of duty and patriotism, spider shoppers started to disperse. Most spiders considered themselves to be a law-abiding and orderly species from a law-abiding and orderly culture. They abhorred mob rule, and a sense of relief swept over shoppers and marines alike as the crowd started going home peacefully.
Then it happened. The spark needed to ignite already frayed tempers was the sight of human pestilence shoppers inside Walmart loading up their shopping carts with boxes of electronic appliances and tech gear. Some Americans waved at the spiders from behind the large plate glass doors. They held up their bargains for the spiders in the parking lot to see. Others just gave the one-fingered salute and giggled.
The taunting was too much for the spider shoppers to accept. Thousands of angry spider shoppers pushed past the marine barrier and smashed the glass doors with concrete from pulled-up light fixtures. They poured into the store, grabbing merchandise off the shelves and from Americans shopping carts. Fights ensued, followed by a nasty riot. More than one spider rioter was run over by angry fat ladies pushing shopping carts. In the end, no one paid for any merchandise. The five-fingered-discount sale ruled the midnight madness. Walmart was emptied of merchandise and trashed. A Merry Christmas was had by all.
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Chapter 11
Flush with cash from the latest Seahawks win, the spider commander was feeling pretty good. He decided to walk to the border crossing to talk to Guido about next week’s games. Accompanying the spider commander was his military intelligence officer. As they walked, both had to jump aside to miss being hit by skateboarders using the sidewalks for a race track. The skateboarders were wearing the latest American-manufactured four-legged Levi blue jeans. Lots of young spiders were wearing the blue jeans today. Normally this would have irritated the spider commander, but he knew the blue jeans had been looted from Walmart. There was a ban on blatantly American apparel, but the spider commander wanted to savor this one little victory over the Americans.
At the checkpoint, the spider commander noticed a new American banner flying under the American flag. The new flag had a black check mark emblem on a red background. He had seen that emblem before somewhere, but could not remember where. “What is that?” asked the spider commander, pointing at the new flag.
“It’s the Nike Swoosh,” answered Guido. “Nike Sportswear, Incorporated, is sponsoring the Legion’s First Division. We even get the Swoosh on all our uniforms.” Guido tugged at his collar, proudly displaying a small black Swoosh.
“This is an advertising gimmick?” asked the spider commander. “Why not just advertise on your all powerful satellite TV networks?”
“Nike believes in word-of-foot advertising,” said Guido. “Would you like a free ‘JUST DO IT’ coffee cup? We’re giving them away to the first five hundred people or spiders passing across the MDL.”
“Yes, I would,” replied the spider military intelligence officer. “Thank you very much, Guido.”
“No!” objected the spider commander. “Put that cup down! Now I remember. I’ve seen your Swooshstika before. Our school children are wearing that emblem. What does it mean?”
Guido shrugged. “It’s just Nike’s corporate symbol. But you are right about the kids liking it. Lieutenant Washington says the Swoosh on our Legion uniforms is great for recruiting. We’re hip now. Did you know that the Nike Swoosh is the most distinctive and recognized brand logo in the galaxy?”
Startled, the spider commander quickly checked ‘Nike’ on the database. “Nike takes its name from the Greek Goddess of Victory!” exclaimed the spider commander. “So that’s what all these Swooshstikas are about. The Legion is trying to claim victory over our civilization!”
“Whatever,” said Guido. “Would you like to have a free Swoosh tee-shirt?”
The spider commander stormed out of the guard shack. The military intelligence officer grabbed the free tee-shirt for his girl friend and ran to catch up. He stuffed the offending Swoosh shirt in a pouch.
“We are going to the closest high school at once,” ordered the spider commander, as they climbed into a jeep. “Did you hear what Guido said about Legion recruitment at the schools?”
“I think he was talking about Legion enlistment quotas at their own schools south of the MDL,” reasoned the military intelligence officer. “He was not saying Lieutenant Washington has infiltrated our schools.”
“We shall see,” said the spider commander, as they drove to North New Gobi High School, home of the Tarantulas.
Most of the students were attending a pep rally for Friday night’s homecoming football game with the South New Gobi High Wolves. The students were gathered around a substantial bonfire. A large poster depicted a large tarantula mascot menacing a small frightened wolf pup.
“At least it appears our students still have some spunk,” said the spider commander. “They are willing to stand up to humanity. We are going to kick some human pestilence butt Friday night!” The spider commander sent Guido a text message asking what the line was on the Tarantula-versus-Wolves game.
They continued their inspection, walking the hallways of the school, looking for signs of American contamination. The spider commander confronted a spider freshman wearing a Swoosh on his tennis shoes. “Don’t you know that shoe was manufactured in America?” asked the spider commander, shaking the freshman by the collar. “That Swooshstika is an emblem of the enemy!”
“Chill, dude,” said the freshman. “Of course they are made in the USA. These aren’t knockoffs. I paid good money. These are Air Nikes. All the premo professional basketball players on Arthropoda wear Air Nikes! The waffle design has awesome traction, and Air Nikes are especially made for spider feet.”
The spider commander let go of the student, who then hurried away to the pep rally, muttering about stupid senile adults. “We have lost the Culture War,” lamented the spider commander. “What can we do to fight this? What shall I tell the governor? Their Goddess of Victory is everywhere. We have been overrun!”
“Perhaps we should just join the United States Galactic Federation before it is too late,” suggested the military intelligence officer. “We could all become rich Americans.”
&nbs
p; “That is not funny,” hissed the spider commander. “Recommending surrender to the governor is not an option. Be more careful. Your joke sounds of defeatism and treason.”
“Quite right,” said the military intelligence officer. “I was just kidding. A few snotty, disrespectful, badly dressed teenagers is not the end of the world, and certainly not the end of our culture. Teenagers are notorious for poor decision-making. That’s why they need us to guide them. So, don’t let it get you down, sir. How about we require a strict dress code at all schools? Even better, how about mandatory school uniforms? That will fix the little baggy-pants Swooshstika-wearing mush heads.”
“I like that,” said the spider commander. “It’s so simple, it just might work. You think uniforms will have an immediate positive impact against the Swooshstika and that bitch Goddess Nike?”
“Yes,” said the military intelligence officer. “Just do it,” he added impulsively, subconsciously echoing the sentiment on the Swoosh tee-shirt he’d gotten from Guido.
“Old fart!” yelled a spider freshman from the exit door. “I won’t wear no stinking uniform!”
The spider commander nodded to his military intelligence officer, who immediately raced after the obnoxious teen. He was easy to catch, what with his baggy pants causing him to stumble. The military intelligence officer produced duct tape from his first aid kit, and taped shut the struggling juvenile’s mouth. The spider commander broke open a hallway locker, and the military intelligence officer stuffed the freshman inside.
“Ha!” exclaimed the spider commander. “I feel better already. Reminds me of the good old days back in school. This is what I have been talking about. Time-honored traditions, like keeping freshmen in their place, must be maintained!”
“Seniors rule, freshmen drool!” agreed the military intelligence officer as he slammed the locker shut. “Another use for duct tape!”
* * * * *
Legionnaire recruit Private Walter Knight waited in line to get his new Nike-sponsored uniform. The whole First Division was being issued brand new sagebrush-colored combat fatigues and equipment. That black Nike Swoosh is going to look good on my shoulder patch, thought Private Knight. More Swooshes adorned his fatigue shirt chest pocket, tee-shirt collar, and jump boots. Camouflage-blended Swooshes contributed to the patchwork of desert colors of the new combat fatigues. High-tech camouflage had just met style.
“Damn I’m going to look good in this uniform,” commented Private Knight, tossing his old uniforms in a bin. “This uniform even smells good. It smells like peaches.”
“That would be my lunch,” said Private Barbara Thayer, in line behind him. “Want a peach?”
“No thank you,” said Private Knight. “Peaches are fuzzy. I won’t eat anything fuzzy. Usually.”
“First time for everything. Are you flirting with me, Mr. Knight?”
“What?” asked Private Knight, deciding to accept a peach after all. He took a large bite. “Your peach, Ms. Thayer, tastes sweet and juicy. Just like you. Do you believe in love at first bite?”
“It’s a Georgia peach,” said Private Thayer. “You aren’t just flirting with me. You are leering at me. Don’t you know that leering is not allowed in today’s modern workplace? Did you miss that memo?”
“Guys have no control over leering. Mere female movement attracts our attention. It’s an instinctual throwback from the caveman days.”
“Well Mr. Caveman, leering is not allowed between legionnaires,” announced Private Thayer, primly. “At least not while on duty.”
“Then I can’t wait to get off duty,” replied Private Knight, still leering.
“Have another peach,” suggested Private Thayer, tossing it to him. “It will quench your thirst.”
“Not likely. In this heat, I need more.”
“You haven’t said two words to me the whole time we have been in basic training,” said Private Thayer, playfully punching Knight in the stomach. “Now I can’t shut you up. Mama told me to watch out for you silent types. Looks like I’ve found me one now. But are you a keeper?”
“I’m too big to throw back. You have to keep me.”
“Keep deluding yourself. What shall I do with you?”
“Feed me?” suggested Private Knight.
“No. You are like a puppy. If I give you food, you will follow me everywhere.”
“I think you look good in Swooshes,” commented Private Knight. “Do you have Swooshes on your underwear, like I do? On your bra?”
“I have Swooshes everywhere,” answered Private Thayer. “Even though it is more information than you need, my bra has only one Swoosh.”
“Somehow I pictured two Swooshes.”
“I’m sure,” said Private Thayer. “Some of us from B Platoon are going up to the reservoir for a picnic this Saturday. Want to come? I’ll bring more fruit.”
“Yes!” replied Private Knight. “But I thought the reservoir was off limits because spiders frequent it. Isn’t the canal right on the MDL?”
“We are the Legion,” said Private Thayer, mimicking their drill sergeants. “We go where we please. Are you afraid of the big bad spiders? Not me!”
“Not me either. It’s a date. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Just make sure you bring your gun fully loaded. Just in case. I believe in taking precautions. I’m a safety girl.”
“My gun is always fully loaded,” bragged Private Knight. “I’ll bring my assault rifle and some fireworks from the armory, too.”
“Boyz are alwayz thinking about their toyz,” commented Private Thayer, as she left for the barracks to change. “See you Saturday, dog.”
“Woof, woof!”
* * * * *
Arthropoda is a hot, dry, and arid planet, described by human visitors as a godforsaken wasteland. Its monotonous weather is caused by a lack of large oceans. The reptilian and exoskeleton-based lifeforms that evolved under those harsh desert conditions by necessity do not consume much food or water. To spider colonists accustomed to such Spartan conditions, New Colorado seemed like paradise. Still, the abundance of water on New Colorado required some getting used to. For example, swimming for recreation was truly an alien concept to spiders. Even so, some spiders taught themselves how to swim. Classes in the public schools offered free swimming lessons and instructions on water safety.
Most spiders still instinctively feared the water. Accidental drowning still took many lives among the many lakes, rivers, and canals of New Colorado. It was said spiders sink like a rock in water, and it was true. However, the attitude among many spiders was that if the human pestilence could swim and enjoy the water, so could spiders.
The increase in popularity of water sports among spiders made the New Gobi Reservoir Recreational Park District a very well-frequented place. After a while, it grew to be used almost exclusively by spider families from both sides of the MDL. The hot New Gobi weather made the park an excellent year-round water playground for swimming, boating, water skiing, and angling. The reservoir was still shared with the human pestilence, but not many humans used it anymore. Only Legion water techs showed their ugly faces at the park to check water levels and for routine maintenance on the dam.
Privates Knight and Thayer and ten other legionnaires arrived at the reservoir in a Legion Armored car with picnic baskets of food and swimming gear.
“Where are all the people?” asked Private Knight.
“I saw a man as we entered the park,” said Private Camacho. “Oops! They got him!”
“We’re the Legion,” boasted Private Thayer. “We will go where we please. No one will mess with us. Try to relax. If spiders smell fear, they might attack.”
“That’s right,” added Private Knight. “Just act like you come here all the time.”
“How would you rookies know anything about spiders?” asked Private Camacho. “Spiders can’t smell. Man, they don’t even have noses.”
“Spiders have those mandible things,” insisted Private Thayer. “T
hey can smell. You don’t know.”
As they were checking out the neighborhood, a park ranger patrol car pulled alongside the armored car. A spider park ranger got out to talk to the young legionnaires. “Why is the Legion here?” asked the spider park ranger. “I have everything under control. No one requested your assistance. There is no problem here.”
“We are the problem,” bragged Private Camacho, as the legionnaires unloaded food and beer. “We’re here for broads, boogie, and booze. Last one in the water naked gets arrested!”
“I suggest you leave,” said the spider park ranger. “This is a quiet family-orientated park used by spiders only.”
“I have heard that,” replied Private Camacho. “That’s why we brought our token spider, Private John Iwo Jima Wayne. He’s the baddest spider legionnaire on the planet.”
“I heard Wayne has been busted back to private so many times they’ve lost count,” whispered Private Thayer. “Rumor is he used to be a bad-ass insurgent leader and a spider marine Special Forces commander. He even once hit Czerinski during an inspection and lived to tell about it.”
“I doubt that,” commented Private Knight.
Private Wayne got out of the armored car, looking like he just woke up and needed coffee. He was already irritated about being talked into coming along by a bunch of smelly human pestilence recruits. Noticing the spider park ranger just irritated him more. “What is your major malfunction?”
“I am just trying to keep the peace,” explained the spider park ranger. “Usually your human pestilence friends don’t recreate here. There’s an unwritten rule humans go to the other reservoir west of New Gobi City. This park is for spiders only.”
“This is the USGF side of the MDL,” commented Private Wayne, still waking up and orientating himself to sunlight. “We have a right to be here.”
Culture War Page 7
