"Anon!"
A hoof prodded his side.
"Anon, wake up!"
The mare to which said hoof belonged clambered up onto his chest.
"Anon. Anon. Anon. Anon."
Her face was right against his, and her body was trembling in exhilaration.
"Get up, you cunt!"
She started to poke his chin.
"Come on, Anon, it's no use sitting in bed all day!"
He pawed the bedstand for his alarmclock.
"Nightshade, it's ... "
Half-lidded eyes squinted even further, the clock barely visible in the pre-dawn darkness.
" ... 4:00 in the morning, why the hell are you even awake?"
Her hooves played his chest like a drum.
"We're gonna be late, come on!"
Anon sat up, back pressed against the headboard.
"How did you get into my house?"
"Doesn't matter!"
He looked past her, catching sight of a large stone surrounded by shards of glass. If it was later in the day, and if this wasn't the third time she'd broken one of his windows that month, he'd have been rather angry, but Anon couldn't muster the will to feel anything beyond minor annoyance.
"You're paying for that."
Her wiggling intensified.
"Sure, whatever, just get up! The Spider's in town!"
"The what?"
"The Spider!"
"That doesn't answer my question."
She gasped.
"You don't know about The Spider?"
He gave a blank stare.
"Apelien, remember?"
"Right. Well, The Spider goes all around Thestralia, and when he comes by we say 'hello'. Trust me, you'll love him!"
Now, Anon had already been made acquainted with a good many spiders during his time here, but was yet to hear about this specific one. Given that it was referred to with a 'The', capitalized and everything, he knew that it was probably some weird local horse diety or magician or traveling salesman or something, and that its visit would likely end up with him having to perform some 12 Labors of Hercules bullshit. He, in other words, had absolutely no desire to see The Spider, but also knew that these bat horses would bother him all day about it, and that it would, if displeased, probably curse his firstborn to be eaten by a dingo.
And so, with a heavy heart and girded loins, he trundled out of bed and towards the kitchen, taking care to avoid the glass. Nightshade ran ahead of him, glancing back every few feet or so like an excited puppy. Her wings were fluttering and her tail was wagging, little squeaks heard over the clopping of hooves.
Throwing on some slippers, and still dressed in his pajamas, Anon left the house and followed his friend. The streetlights—mason jars filled with fireflies glued to the top of some old driftwood—painted the neighborhood a dull orange, shadows clinging to the spaces between them. The street was filled with ponies, a lively, chattering procession to the town's main drag.
"Isn't it exciting, Anon?"
He surveyed the crowd.
"I'm really just confused. Why are we doing this again?"
"Don't be like that, greeting The Spider is one of our oldest traditions, dates right back to our exile after the defeat of Nightmare Moon. We give him offerings, and in return he doesn't drown us with his innumerable children. Real top bloke, no doubt about that."
Anon stopped.
"Wait, what?"
"It's pretty easy to understand, mate. Stuff for him means less spiders for us."
"That sounds less like tradition and more like extortion."
She shook her head.
"Nah, it's not extortion when The Spider does it."
"But how?"
Her brow furrowed.
"Look, Anon, it's just different, alright?"
"That really doesn't answer my question."
"Oh, just sod off. You best stop knocking The Spider, or else we'll have some trouble."
He decided to shut up, if only for fear of being lynched by waist-high horses.
"Considering it's your first time, I'll forgive you, but mind yourself, Anon. We take this sort of thing pretty seriously. "
"Alright, alright, I get it. Don't talk shit about the spider."
"The Spider."
"Sorry, The Spider."
He already hated it.
As the two got closer to the center of town, the crowd grew larger and larger, and the noise reached a dull roar. The smell of food filled the air, and Anon caught sight of The Spider.
On a large wooden platform, illuminated by tiki torches, sat a gargantuan funnel-web. Black, soulless eyes stared ahead with an otherworldly sheen, and legions of pulsating eggs clung to its bloated form. The beast was surrounded by all manner of riches: gold and silver, frankincense and myrrh, Vegemite and those nice Cadbury milk chocolates, and legs the size of tree trunks scuttled about in search of more.
Anon drew close, and The Spider grew still. The crowd silenced, and all eyes gazed upon the resident interdimensional ape person. Its fangs parted, revealing a cavernous maw from which poured a voice deepened by the millennia.
"Oi, the tall fella in the back."
Anon looked around for a bit before pointing at himself.
"Me?"
"Ye you, ya daft cunt. Neva seen you 'round 'ere before."
"I'm a ... traveler, of sorts. Arrived here a few months ago."
A portal opened up in his kitchen after he mixed Coke and Pepsi.
"Huh. Got a name?"
"Anonymous. You?"
"Bruce, but most people just call me The Spider. What ya got for me?"
He began to sweat.
"Well, um, I didn't know you existed until about 15 minutes ago."
The massive body shifted.
"I mean no disrespect by it, and I'll gladly go and get you something."
The crowd began to part.
"Oh God. Look, I'm being honest, I'll get you some good stuff, alright?"
The Spider stood upon eight legs, fangs bared, and Anon hunched over and covered his eyes.
"Calm down, ya bloody sook. If ya don't want my ankle biters ta eat you whole, you'll head over to that 7-Eleven I saw over by the Hungry Jack's and get me some ciggies and Victoria, none of that Foster's garbage."
Anon slowly unraveled.
"Just that?"
"Yeah. Those cunts at Centrelink don't know how bad I've got it. I can barely afford my TV bill, so I might as well just get my shit from you lot."
As he made his way through the crowd and towards the convenience store, Anon wondered how exactly his life had gotten to this point.
