Opa Opa and the Spider Chowder

Vater und Kind beim Hoppe hoppe Reiter-Spiel (1863) by Charles Green

Once upon a time, when Opa Opa was a very little boy, Mr. Pipe made the mistake of leaving him in their Yew Tree alone while he went to the village to buy more wheat from Ms. Fastra. But we must be lenient with Mr. Pipe, for being a horse, he had never raised a little boy before. Probably, it would be quite sensible to leave a young colt to himself for a half hour or more. Afterall, how much trouble could he get into? These were the exact words floating through Mr. Pipe’s head as he closed the door.

Like all little boys left alone for the first time, Opa Opa took certain liberties. He said all the silliest words he knew, back to back as an auctioneer might. Then he crawled on top of Mr. Pipe’s reading chair, something he was never allowed to do. After that, he jumped on his bed and stuck out his tongue pretending to a frog after a juicy fly. All this naughty business worked up a fearsome appetite in Opa Opa. He remembered that Mr. Pipe had set out a bowl of clam chowder for him to eat.

The bowl was still warm when Opa Opa plunged his spoon in. A fury of tiny whistles sounded from Opa Opa knew not where. He looked down, and there was a black spec in his soup! Brining his ear closer, he found that the chirping was coming from that same spec. Unfortunately, the spec was too small to make out, no matter now closer Opa Opa got. If he hadn’t remembered about Mr. Pipe’s magnifying glass, this is probably where the adventure would have ended. But Opa Opa did remember, and when he put the lens up to the spec, it grew to the size of a button.

Opa Opa first noticed the waving fists, eight of them all shaking furiously in the air. They were attached to a hairy body shaped like a snowman made of only a two snowballs. Last and worst of all, he noticed the eyes. Opa Opa counted them until he ran out of numbers he knew. 

“Yuck! It’s an icky spider!” he remarked.

At this, the squeaking grew louder and a pitch higher. Evidently, Opa Opa had angered the little spider. The truth was that this spider was peacefully enjoying the bowl of soup before Opa Opa stuck his spoon in, sending a tidal wave of chowder all over the poor spider. Now, the spider was quite mad. If Opa Opa could have heard them correctly, he would have understood the spider’s squeals as angry demands that he be left alone to finish his meal in peace.

But if you know anything about boys and spiders, you can probably guess what Opa Opa did next. He raised his spoon high in the air and sent it crashing down, right where the spider lay in the bowl. This was perhaps the most naughty thing he had done yet, for spiders are creatures made by God, and this one had so far done nothing to deserve attack. But, God often has ways to remind us that we have done wrong.

“OPPAAAA!” yelled little Opa Opa rider. His face was covered with hot chowder. He ran to the mirror and began wiping himself clean, starting first with his eyes. Can you guess what he saw in the mirror when he opened them again? It was the spider, sitting right on his forehead!

Quickly, Opa Opa swung his hand to smack the spider. But the spider was too quick. It had leapt onto the sink just in time for Opa Opa to smack himself, leaving a red handprint on his head.

“OPPAAAA!” he yelled again. This time, he didn’t need the magnifying glass to know that the spider was laughing at him. Opa Opa was mad as could be. He dove at the spider with both hands. Again, the spider moved. Opa Opa had to change directions quickly, and in so doing, lost his footing. The last thing he remembered was careening toward the corner of the sink.

When he woke up again, he was hanging upside down from the ceiling. Something was hugging him tight on all sides, much like when Mr. Pipe tucked him in at night. But this was no blanket; it was a web that the spider had spun around him while he was asleep.

Opa Opa looked desperately around the Yew Tree. The spider was nowhere in sight.

“Come out, you rascal! Or are you too scared to face me?”

The spider slid down on its web, stopping to hover right before Opa Opa’s eyes. It swung back and forth on its single line of thread. Each time it swung, it got closer and closer to Opa Opa’s nose. Opa Opa closed his eyes, expecting to feel its fangs sink into his nose at any moment. But, instead of a spider bite, Opa Opa felt the air of a loud clap. Though his ears were rining, Opa Opa’s eyes beheld the most favorable sight. There was Mr. Pipe, his front hooves pressed together with the spider’s thread coming out the top. The spider was dead, nothing more than a tiny spider pancake. Mr. Pipe looked anything but amused.

“How was Ms. Fastra?” asked Opa Opa through a smile.

And now for the rest of the story…