heres a story my friend wrote about dewitt!
friend being
shuffles101 on deviantart.(booker is dewitt, dewitt is just his stage name >w> )
It was snowing when the young spider woke up. Large, fluffy mounds of it fell from the gray skies and into his front yard, creating a confectionery sugar wonderland of the forest. For a long moment, Booker stood in his doorway, his silken robe pulled tightly around his eight legs, watching the cardinals dance and play with the forest fairies as the squirrels ran across the treetops. His emerald eyes blinked. He'd never seen snow before, and although he most certainly wasn't afraid of anything, the sudden blanketing of his home was freaking him out just a bit. The actor looked down, nudging the fluff carefully with a toe. He squeaked and scampered backwards. Great Shakespeare's ghost! It was cold! He glanced around before hazarding another touch.
"Isn't it great, Booker?"
Booker the Spider looked up sharply to see a mink curled ostentatiously on top of the tree stump that now served as his home. He'd found that a web was simply too small for his productions and had invested in deciduous property. The creature nibbled on his small claws before glancing down, a mean spirited gleam in his eyes.
"Howie." Booker said, squinting upwards. That blasted critic had been spreading bad news about his improv shows ever since he watched a single bad run.
"It's Howard, you pest. And don't you love it?" The mink corrected.
"Love it? Lookee here buster, I don't see how anyone but a bloody mammal could love this rubbish, eh? I'm gonna freeze my spinnerets off in this! Ain't no place for it for the likes of me. I prefer my set clean, warm, and dry. And get off my roof!"
"Oh, you poor, cold blooded insect, you." Howard twittered, his sharpened fangs glinting in the reflected light. "Refusing to change with the world around you. Don't you see that this could be an asset to you?"
Booker was right about to jump up there and give him the ol' one-two when he stopped and looked upwards.
"Eh? You tugging my ear there, Howie?"
"Howard. And I was simply musing upon the pure aesthetics of the weather. Pure, virgin land, perfect for theatrics. But for shame! I can see you're far more interested in your little comedy sketches to get into real art."
"Hey, hey, hey there buster! Comedy's real art!" Booker chirped. "I'll show you! I'll throw the best darndest improv show this whole forest's ever seen, and I'll do it on your pretty little stage too!"
"Good." Howard purred, getting up and stretching his long back. He leaned down and flashed him a feline smile. "I look forwards to seeing it, especially if you remain in your robe."
Booker looked down, forgetting momentarily that he was, indeed, in his pajamas. When he looked up to lob some real insults at the wretch, he was gone, disappeared into the snow like the snake he was truly born to be.
"Pure, virgin land, eh?" Booker mumbled to himself, taking a fresh view of the world around him. He blinked his multiple eyes and grinned, rushing inside. While he'd never admit it, that rat had been right. The lighting, the set, the whole world was perfect! Booker quickly slicked back his hair, threw on his tophat and cloak, and rushed out to face the world head on. This was going to be the best improv show ever! And all he needed was his assistant!
When Booker found Seymour, he was on his way to visit Molly. He could tell by the dreamy look in his eyes and the scarf he had knotted in his hands, gently and lovingly knitted by the lovestruck snail. Dollface sure did get a lot of nice gifts from him, Booker thought, hopping down and skidding directly in front of him. He didn't notice right away, so he waved his hat in the air.
"Buddy! Eh, buddy! Over here!"
"Booker?" Seymour's voice, as always, was soft and measured. "Is that you? I-I'm sorry, I can't see very well. All this snow is fogging up my glasses."
"It sure is, ol' pal! C'mon! We gotta get to moving! I'm planning a big show and I need your help!"
"O-Oh, that sounds swell, but, I, uh, I was about to go visit Molly. It's a little cold and I thought she might like a scarf to keep her warm. Or do you think she'd prefer a sweater? I-I haven't got a very big one for her, but I... I don-"
"I think she'll simply adore the scarf, Seymour. It's a beautiful gift."
Booker and Seymour both turned to see a shimmering figure walk from the trees. Booker's eyes widened. He scrambled for his hat and removed it with a hectic bow. The woman smiled, her bare feet leaving nary a stain on the snow. The creature was a forest spirit, and the most beautiful thing many had ever seen. Oh, if only he could make her his leading lady in his next production. He tried to think of something witty or charming to say, but Seymour (for once) beat him to the punch.
"Oh, hello Miss Anne!" He said to the humanlike figure cheerily. "D'you really think so?"
"Cross my heart." Miss Anne smiled. Seymour blushed and hugged his gift against his chest.
"Oh, oh, oh, that's wonderful!" He giggled. "I-I just really want her to have nice things and I know how cold it is and-"
"Yes, I understand. There's no need to explain yourself. Why don't you run along to give it to her?" Anne asked. Seymour nodded and began to hurry off once more.
"Hey, wait! What's the big idea? We have a show to put on!" Booker cried, beginning to chase after him. Anne smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder, her iridescent wings catching the sun. He felt a chill run down his spine.
"Let him see her." She said. "He really is excited."
"Oh, alright." Booker mumbled, replacing his hat hastily, only to have it fall off and land in the snow. "I'll do it myself. Such is the life of a producer." Anne laughed. That wasn't the intended effect.
"Oh Booker, why do you have to be so... Dramatic?" She asked, gently picking up his tophat and brushing it off.
"Dramatic?" The spider asked, sounding offended. "Lady, I'm an actor! Furthermore, I've got a rat to disprove!"
"Oh, Howard? I spoke to him a little earlier. He told me you were going to have an improv show while the snow lasts."
"That's right!" For some reason, knowing that Anne had spoken to the mink earlier made Booker hate the beast even more. He stopped suddenly and nudged the ground, looking at the soft marks hit feet made on the forest floor. "And, well, if you'd care to come, I, er, I-"
"I'd love to come." Anne said, leaning down and kissing Booker gently on the cheek. Despite his cold blood, the spider felt his face flush greatly.
"I'll be sure to get a front row seat."
"Wh-What? Oh, yes! Yeah, front row! Packed house! Tell all your friends to come on down! Oughta be a hit, it will!" He chanted and cheered as the lovely spirit waved and turned away, disappearing into the snow like a dream from thought. Booker sighed and leaned against a tree. What a dame, that girl. What a first class dame. And she was coming to his show! He snapped to attention when the thought hit him. He had to get ready! He knew Seymour would be along before too late, and all he had to do was set out some hot drinks, some bottle caps for chairs, and spread the word! He thought back to the beautiful forest spirit and felt full of energy, shooting off again to prepare for the tremendous evening, knowing it would indeed be the best show ever.
And all thanks to the snow.
May 20, 2019 23:16:59 GMT
May 20, 2019 23:16:59 GMT