What peculiar and astonishing site is there to see as you idle at a stop sign but the disheveled crossing of a troupe of spiderlimbs, off in search of usefulness. The scurrying sound of their tiny hairy legs made of borrowed cartilage and bone on the acid black asphalt reach you even through the tinted windows of your vehicle.  Hands complete with arms detached at the shoulder, ears with lobes still studded with faux finery.  A nose. A breast.  A buttock. All carried across the road on arachnid offshoots.

  A disembodied blue eye turns momentarily to survey your gapping vapid expression before blinking (or perhaps winking, such a thing is hard to tell without a head or second eye being present to help you discern the difference). The long lash-ed eye then scuttles off into the underbrush to continue its search for a beneficial companionship.  You sit back replicating the blink as you stare at the place where the bizarre pedestrians disappear into dark weeds.

 Before the last twitching shadow clears the growths, you feel a strange itch in your lower extremities.  Before you know what’s happening you feel a tug at your foot and hear a distinct and messy pop. Slipping off your bland brown loafer you survey its dark musty recess and see your neglected pinky toe peak it’s un-pedicured head  over the side of the worn pleather.  Jumping from the shoe to the seat, it scurries up the side of the passenger door to perch itself on the thin sill of the window where it prods the glass with its thick yellowed nail. Swiveling it’s toe knuckle body around to place its attention on you, you immediately understand.  You close your mouth and reach for the stiff knob and proceed to roll down the passenger window.  Out hops your toe and your headlights momentarily catch it in its rays before it too disappears off into the wild.