Come into my parlor, make yourself comfortable, sit with me while I spin you a tale of two lost souls.
Silvie, sipping her Summer wine, brooding on life’s injustices.
Freddie, buzzing around, frantically searching for an elusive goal.
Silvie, quietly scheming, La Revolution.
Freddie, unable to relax, craving excitement.
Silvie, scurrying forth in search of a victim.
Freddie, roaming the city streets, zooming in on Silvie.
Silvie, relaxed, pondering the ‘Rise Up’ sign attached to a lamp post.
Freddie, rushing to make contact.
Silvie, waiting, calculating.
Freddie, buzzing, full of eager anticipation.
Sylvie, slyly enticing, offering forbidden fruit.
Freddie, besotted, eager, accepting.
Sylvie, offering a brick, and call to action.
Freddie, adrenaline pumping, accepting her token.
Sylvie and Freddie, turning the corner into an explosive chemical reaction.
The mob, all colours,shapes,sizes,egos pressed into a maelstrom of seething fury.
Chaos, hysterical laughter, broken windows, trampling crowds, smash and grab.
Freddie, running with his trophy.
Sylvie, satiated, smugly looking on from the shadows.
Freddie, the buzz abating, bewilderment, abandons trophy.
So ends another day in a ” State of Nature”.
“Will you walk into my parlor?” said a spider to a fly;
” it’s the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many pretty things to show when you are there.”
“Oh no, no!” said the little fly, “to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can never come down again.”
He dragged her up his winding stair, into his dismal den,
Within his little parlor—but she never came out again!
—And now, dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly, flattering words, I pray you never give heed:
Unto an evil counselor, close heart, and ear, and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.Mary Howitt (1829) First and last verse.