Spider Quest 9: Return Of Aragog

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My name is Jenny, but you can call me progamerjenny, like everyone does. And this a story about how my life changed forever, much like how Pterano changed forever in The Land Before Time VII: The Stone of Cold Fire.

It all started when I saw him on eBay, and my heart melted into a million pieces. I’d been searching for years, but I never expected to find a man as big as him. My heart swooned. Could he really be real? Could he really be for me?

I was about to message him, fearfully, knowing it was likely a ruse, but then to my surprise, a message popped up

 Hey there progamerjenny. I’ve haked your computer and now Im gona hack u to pieces 

I gasped, astounded by his forthrightness. I’d already been into him, but now that he’d compromised my security and made an outright threat on my life, I was just about ready to meet this mysterious stranger, this largest of men. Breathing rapidly, I typed my response.  Wtf man that’s really creepy, I just wanted to buy your plush.

I sat back, smug and satisfied. Truly a big man such as him would pick up my reverse psychology. Finally, he responded.

You can call me aragog

Aragog! The name left me breathless. It was perhaps even one tier up from ‘Justin’ and ‘Josh’ and ‘fluttershy’ in terms of sexy names. Add that to the largeness of the man, and I was just about ready to be his.

 If u want me, com to arizona. I will be waiting ;)

My heart thudded. Arizona... I knew where that was! Without another question, I leaped into my car and began to drive.

Little did I know, how much this experience would change my life, just as Finn’s character arc had changed in Star Wars Episode Nine: The Rise of Skywalker... That is to say, it would soon be none existent!

The drive was lengthy and hot, just like Aragog’s dreamy legs, and much like Aragog’s dreamy legs, it made me a sweaty and a little skeeved out. After nearly twenty days of consecutive driving, through day and through night, through snow and through storm, it soon became clear that Jenny couldn’t keep going in this manner. She was almost out of porgs to eat, and the lack of sleep was starting to impede her mental faculties. For one thing, it made her lose track of whether this was a third or first-person story. For another, she didn’t know where the severed head had come from. She hadn’t removed a head in this manner since that imposter at brony-con, and her bright pink lightsaber was still warm (the coolest lightsabre of all, because nobody else has that colour). But what finally made her stop, was when she laid eyes on

Hugo the porg, her very last porg.

No, Jenny thought, I’m not an animal. Even animals have standards.

‘Please end my suffering,’ Hugo’s eyes seemed to say, ‘let me be one with the force.’

But Hugo was a failure, by far the worst porg of all. She wasn’t going to eat him. His flesh would be terrible to taste.

So, on the twenty-first day, I finally pulled into the first roadside attraction I could find. The sign read ‘Bedrock City’, but I was too tired at the time to see one important detail: The ‘B’ in the title had been scrawled out, and replaced by the letter ‘D’. I had just arrived at Dedrock City, Arizona.

And the ‘D’ stood for danger.

I fell into a deep sleep after parking the car, not waking for nearly three days. When I finally woke, it was to the sound of bony appendages tap-tap-tapping on the glass.

“Aragog?” I asked, groggily. (Aragrogily). “Could it be you? Are we finally united?”

“Nay!” The man screeched, “I be not this Aragog of which you speak!”

“Then who are you?” I asked, “are you the keeper of this park?”

“Nay! Nay, nay, nay!” he cried again. I finally looked at the man. He was very fat, almost as big a man as Aragog, but with limbs thinner than whiteboard chalk. It was meant to be scary, but realistically, I could probably snap his brittle fingers with a single touch. Plus, I’ve already established my ownership of a lightsaber, so the threat seemed pretty minimal. Then I saw it, the My Little Pony T-Shirt. The realization dawned on me: He wasn’t a man, he was a brony! He hadn’t been saying ‘Nay’, he’d been saying ‘neigh’!

“Can I leave the car?” I asked cautiously, reaching my legs for the throttle.

“Neigh!” He brayed, “not lest you answer my riddles three!”

“I’ll play your game, master of the pony,” I said confidently, reaching into my bag. “What are these riddles of which you speak?”

“Riddle the first!” He stabbed one finger into her window. “What is... The green alien’s name? “

“The great Gazoo,” I said confidently. Did he really think I wouldn’t know the most popular Flintstones character?

“Impressive!” The brony rubbed at his beard, spreading cheeto dust through the tufty hairs, “riddle the second: What is... Barney Rubble’s job?”

“Well, he actually had many jobs, depending on the episode,” I said, considering the options, “I think this is a trick question.”

“Aha!” The brony danced a little jig, pointing so hard the window shattered, spreading broken glass across my lap, “fake fan! Fake fan!”

All around Dedrock, sirens began to ring, red spotlights blazing across the park. At the entrance, bars began to rise, blocking every way in or out. An automated voice called out on repeat:

“Yabba dabba doo, a fake flintstones fan are you!”

My heart started pounding, alarm-bells ringing in my head. This roadside attraction wouldn’t keep me from my love, no matter how impressive it was.

“What about the third riddle?” I asked, desperately.

“Whuh?”

“The third riddle! You said I had to answer three riddles, but you’ve only asked two.”

“You got one wrong. That means you can’t answer all three correctly.”

“You said three riddles, and three riddles I demand.”

“Very well,” the brony cackled, “but it’ll do you little good, fakest of fans. Riddle the last: what is- AH FUCK PISS YOU FUCKING BITCH.”

“That’s not a real riddle,” I smiled, putting her pepper-spray away. “I guess that makes you the fake fan!”

“I’ll kill you, you whore!” The brony gnashed, but I’d already dived through the broken window, flinging broken glass into his face. Heart racing, I looked around for somewhere to hide. There were flintstone houses scattered around the compound, unlit and filthy.

“I can’t hide in there!” I wailed, as the brony thrashed behind me. In the distance, the sound of stormtrooper boots approached, “There make be snakes!”

“Don’t worry,” a familiar voice whispered, “there aren’t.” With a sudden yank I was pulled into the nearest house, as seen in episode 838 of the show. Outside, the stormtroopers searched for me, but thankfully I was already gone.

“Jenny!” One of them screamed.

“Jenny!?” Another screamed, in the distance.

“Reeeey!” a third one screamed, “I mean Jeeeennnnnyyyy!”

I turned to regard my rescuer.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Shut up,” said a very familiar looking woman, “or they’ll hear your grating voice and find us.”

“Uh-”

“Ignore her, she’s just jealous,” my rescuer said. He was a somewhat big man, but not really big enough. “My name is Josh Hutcherson, and this is Jennifer.”

“Not that it matters to you,” Jennifer screeched. She looked a lot like me, but far less attractive and with a worse personality.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Dedrock,” Josh said, “there’s no way out, believe me, I’ve tried. If you’re a fake fan of the Flintstones, they kill you.”

“I’ve been trapped on an theme-park with Josh Hutcherson for three months,” Jennifer wailed, pulling Josh Hutcherson closer, “and we’re very much in love.”

Josh Hutcherson shot a funny look at Jennifer. He didn’t seem so sure.

“It might have been three months,” Josh smiled, “but it’s not like I have a calendar, like I got trapped on an theme park and screamed ‘help someone throw me a calendar!’”

Jennifer laughed hysterically, as though something funny had been said.

“And we don’t need you helpi-” she started to say, but then everyone fell silent as heavy footsteps approached.

“Hello?” Came the unmistakable voice of Fred Flintstone, “are you in there, fakest of fans?”

“Who is that?” I asked, but Josh Hutcherson shushed me. A shadow entered the rock cabin.

“I know you’re there,” Fred said, “have you tried a Winston’s cigarette?” He laughed, a laugh that could shatter the fool-proof scripting of Solo: A Star Wars Story. “I have them here, ready to be smoked by Yabba dabba you!”

I tried to control my breathing, but images of Aragog kept sneaking into my brain, causing my breath to deepen. I was forced to tap directly into the force to keep calm, even under such stress. Fred prowled around the stone cabin, checking every cupboard, every door. I pressed myself smaller, invoking aragog’s will to cling like a spider to the underside of a table. But it wouldn’t last. Then, the mistake was made. Jennifer, unable to keep her cool, tumbled from the closet she was hiding in. For just one moment, her terrified eyes locked with that of the beast.

Then he pounced.

“Fake fan!” He screeched, “faker!”

In that moment I glimpsed him for the first time. It was a Fred Flintstone mascot costume, but photo-negative, with blood red eyes and blood spilled down the front.

“Human flesh tastes good!” Fred growled, slobbering on Jennifer’s screaming body, “like a cigarette should!” Transfixed on the sight, I barely noticed as Josh Hutcherson led me away, escaping the hut and weaving through the stormtroopers to reach a dinosaur statue.

“I’m sorry about Jennifer,” I huffed when my heart-rate finally receded.

Josh Hutcherson shrugged.

“Eh.”

From behind us, I became aware of movement, but when I looked back, the dinosaur statue was gone.

“It’s a dying!” The dinosaur growled, suddenly leaping out to attack. Once again, I found myself running with Josh Hutcherson by my side, the dinosaur barely keeping track. That was it. I’d kept my jedi pact of pacifism long enough. I whipped out my lightsaber and turned to face the enemy.

“No, wait!” Josh yanked it from my hand, “you can’t kill it!”

“What? Why not?” I watched him hurl my weapon into the distance, “hundreds of people might die if I don’t kill it!”

“Because,” his voice broke as we ran, “it’s a clone! Just like me, and Jennifer.”

“What?” He pulled me into another hut, where we hunkered down to ride out the storm.

“You really think I’m the real Josh Hutcherson? After he died in a island, they made me to replace him! They do this with every celebrity.

You can’t kill the dinosaurs, because they’re clones, like me!”

“I have so many questions about this, but what about Jennifer? You’re saying she’s my clone? But I’m not a celebrity!”

“What? Jenny, clearly you don’t understand.”

“What is it, Josh?” I pulled him by the scruff of his neck, “what deep secrets does that blonde head of yours entomb?!”

“You’re not a celebrity, but you’re something more. You’re horse-famous!”

I felt my face grow pale. Every word he said made perfect sense.

“Now, shush, I hear stormtroopers approaching,” he put a finger to my lips. They sounded a lot like John Boyega, more celebrity clones!

“Did you see what he did to the fake fan?” One of them said.

“That was her?” the other said, inquisitive, “but she was way uglier, and had a bad personality.”

“Well, yes, she was a corpse you see.”

In that moment, I felt a slight pang of victory. They’d thought Jennifer was me! They thought I was dead!

“Still, we should keep an eye out for the other fake fans.”

“Yes. We should always—REEEEEY!” The Stromtrooper howled at the moon for eleven solid seconds. “Sorry. Reflex.”

“Understood,” the other said understandingly, “we all get those urges from time to time. Want to go binge every movie and episode of The Land Before Time?”

“Always, bro. I’m always up for a Gay Old Time. But only in a heterosexual way.”

“Yes. Always. Who even is Rose, anyway?”

“Beats me.”

The stormtroopers finally left them in silence.

“Josh Hutcherson, I need an explanation. Who killed Jennifer? Or what?” I asked, “what was that photo-negative Fred Flintstone? And why did it look so funny?”

“Ded Flintbone,” Josh explained, “the true immortal master of Dedrock. There is no hope while he survives.”

“But what is he?”

Josh Hutcherson’s voice fell to a whisper, like he was terrified of the answer.

“Have you ever wondered where the Flintstones show came from? The truth is, it’s all true. The show is real, and Dead Flintbone has been alive since the Stone-age, growing more and more hostile with every day. Hannah-Barbara were his puppets all along.”

“There’s really no escape?” I asked, hopelessness tearing at my mind. What if I never got to feel aragog’s big, strong legs? “What about that elevator?”

Josh pulled me back.

“No,” he said grimly, “never go down the elevator.”

But it looked so... Normal. A normal elevator in a sea of stone-Age houses.

“Why?” I asked.

“It’ll send you to the shadow realm, where everything is the same...”

“Sounds like we have no choice though!”

“... Except there’s a cross in the sky!”

“Oh no!”

My heart stopped. A cross! In the sky! I’d sooner die before giving the ambulance service a free promo!

“There’ll be a cross over your grave in a minute!” Came the dopey voice of Dead Flintbone, leaping out from the gift shop. “Yabba dabba die!”

If I’d had my lightsaber than maybe we’d have stood a chance, but I no longer did. It was official: my lightsaber was having as little impact on the plot as Rey’s in The Rise of Skywalker. But at least we know what colour it was!

“There’s no hope!” Josh Hutcherson cried, “Dead Flintbone has found us! We’re going to die!”

“I have another trick up my sleeve,” Jenny said, standing her ground against Ded Flintbone.

“What could you do to me, mortal?” The mascot chortle.

I smiled, knowingly, deliberately clapping my hands four times.

“Fin, fin, may I be cleansed of sin; McGreal, fight for me, so I may finally win!”

With that, McGreal appeared in a blaze of light, tipping his fedora with one hand and carrying Monopoly with the other.

“Ready to continue our game of wits?” He winked, but then saw Dead Flintbone. His happy-go-lucky smile melted away to become a grimace of purpose. “Ah, I see,” he closed his eyes tightly, “Jenny. It’s your unlucky day. Run. My time has come.”

“I can help you!” I cried, “me and Josh can-” but Josh Hutcherson was already sprinting for his life.

“There’s nothing we can do, he’s already dead!” He cried back at me without slowing down.

“Ah, McGreal,” Dead Flintbone sneered, “my old enemy.”

“You have no need for one more soul in your library,” McGreal, said, “let Jenny go and take me instead.” Dead Flintbone laughed.

“I’ll take you either way!” He pounced, but I was gone before I could witness their epic battle. “We fight now, for the very last gay old time!”

I ran after Josh, feet blistering after running so fast, barely able to keep going.

“You abandoned him!” I accused. Josh shook his head.

“No I didn’t.”

Finally, we made it to the gift shop, but there was nowhere to go from here. Every exit was sealed. More and more stormtroopers emerged seemingly from nowhere, a countless number of Josh Boyega clones.

“We’ll be safe here for a while,” Josh breathed heavily, “there’s enough time to rest.”

“Wrong again, fake-fan!” a familiar whiny voice cackled from across the aisles. “Prepare to meet thy doom!”

The sound of two lightsaber blades igniting rang across the store. I shot Josh Hutcherson an accusatory look.

“Not my fault,” he shrugged, “the instructions said to bring a spear.”

“But... I had a lightsaber, Josh.”

“YOU SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT A SPEAR!”

We snuck from aisle-to-aisle as the brony snuck closer on his little hooves, lightsabers vwooshing and shooming. Merchandise fell from the shelves as red blades sliced through the furniture, almost clipping my skin several times. The heat emanating from the weapons combined with my utter fear to create a gross, sweaty feeling as we forced our way through the store. The brony’s braying and mockery betrayed his position, along with the wretched smell of cheesy Doritos and bodily fluids. It gave them something to run from. But soon there was nowhere to go.

“Fake fan,” he laughed, as I backed against a dead end, my limited luck having drained away.

“Better a fake fan than a true hater,” I dabbed in fear, with Aragog in my mind, knowing beyond anything it would be the last thing I saw.

And then, as though my mind alone had summoned him, he leaped out from where he’d been lurking behind an escalator.

“Hello there,” he said, big form quivering with spidery tendon.

“Aragog!” The brony’s cocky glare became a fearful frown, “I thought you were dead!”

“You can’t kill an idea!” The spider roared, standing on two legs and igniting six lightsabers at once. Blue, green, red, yellow, purple, and orange. A veritable rainbow of hope. “You can’t kill hope itself!” My sweat became tears as the spider lunged for my would-be killer, knowing my life was saved. He swung his arms like a madlad, often swiping one way with three arms, a second direction with two others, only to stab dead ahead with the last. The brony fought better than a smaller man usually would, but couldn’t attack without exposing his bulbous form. He’d knock Aragog’s lightsabers aside again and again, never once able to clear all six. Soon he was hyperventilating.

“If you kill me,” he wheezed, “you’ll never be able to kill Dead Flintbone. He is the truest of fans.”

“Fans mean nothing without wind,” Aragog growled, “and I’m bigger than the wind. I’m a goddamn hurricane!”

And with that he flung all six lightsabers in six separate directions, the brony blocking two as the final four sliced his thicc body in twain.

Aragog heaved as the brony’s blood congealed on the ground. All six lightsabers fwooshed off, revealing him as the simple massive spider he was.

“Aragog!” I wept into his spidery fur, “is it really you?”

“Yes, ProGamerJenny,” Aragog stroked me with his appendage, “you have almost completed your spiderquest™.”

“I did it!” Josh Hutcherson cheered, “I beat the brony!”

We ignored the fool, for he knew not of Aragog’s glory.

“We need to leave!” I said, “we have to escape Dedrock!”

“’Dedeock’?” Aragog snarled with disgust, “I would’ve used ‘Dreadrock’, it’s far cleverer.”

“You deny my vast intellect?” Came the booming voice of Ded Flintbone, “Aragog, God of spiders,” he lifted the severed head of McGreal, “as you can see, you stand no chance against me.”

“You wish to kill us, before showing your final form?” Aragog smiled, his mandibles charmingly glinting. “How droll.”

“You are correct,” Ded Flintstone pondered, “it would be very anticlimactic.” He laughed, his dopey voice warping, changing, becoming otherworldly, “you wanna see my head come off?”

To the tune of Star Wars: the Phantom Menace’s Dual of the Fates, Ded Flintstone slowly reached up to where the seam of his mask met his body.

“Prepare to Yabba Dabba Die!” He grinned, as the head tore off.

His body slumped limply to the ground, his noggin rolling like a barrel to Aragog’s feet.

As it turned out, heads were important. Tearing your own head off is rarely a clever thing to do.

“I defeated Ded Flintbone!” Josh Hutcherson cheered again, “I’m a hero!”

The alarms grew louder, the red lights growing white-hot.

“Yabba Dabba doo! Your time on Earth is through!”

“The stormtroopers are coming,” Aragog growled, “they’re sending the last of their forces. But I can’t carry you both to safety.”

“Carry me!” Josh Hutcherson pushed me aside, “I never loved her, I always loved you, Aragog!”

“Wait,” I pointed, “look!” There was a transport we could use.

“That car?” Josh Hutcherson scrunched up his face, “it’s garbage!”

A squadron of Finns burst through the door.

“Jennnnyyyyyyy!” They screamed, except one who screamed “Reeeeeeey!”

“The garbage will do,” I insisted, not knowing whether I referred to the car or the Josh-Clone. We raced towards the vehicle and reached to strap in. This wasn’t just any car: this was a car from hit Hannah-Barbara TV show The Flintstones. Me and Josh Hutcherson stuck our legs through the bottom of the car and began to run, with Aragog sitting on top as the gunner. The screaming masses of Finn clones chased us, piling on top of each other in a tidal wave of flesh to reach us. Aragog shot web like a spiderman on Adderall, forming sticky walls to dam the flood, occasionally yanking a clone towards him so he could eat it and gain its strength. But it wasn’t enough. The masses were upon them, only meters away.

“We could throw someone to slow them down and lose some weight,” Josh Hutcherson suggested quietly to me, as Aragog crunched armour between his Jaws, “but you have to choose: The giant gross spider, or me, an actual human being.” As it turned out, Josh Hutcherson was wrong. His bouncing body barely slowed the Finn-wave at all, and quickly succumbed to their collective power.

“Jenny,” the exhausted spider said, “I can save us, but I need to clear some of these Finns. If you have any last tricks, I need them now!” I sighed.

“If I use my final card, it will sacrifice my soul!”

“Fret not, human,” Aragog comforted me, “for I ready own it.”

I nodded, relieved, safe in the knowledge that I’d still be able to give my soul to the slender man house where Jeff the Killer and Smile Dog went. Leaning backwards and spreading my arms, my eyes flashed red as I finally invoked his name. In a flash of brilliant blue glory, he descended from the heavens, a storm of lightning smashing the tidal wave below.

“I,” he said, with words so powerful they could tear galaxies asunder, “am Jimmy Scrambles.” The tidal wave hesitated, trembling at the name, but momentum carried them forwards. With a maniacal grin, Jimmy Scrambles plunged forwards, scorching a hole through the wall of bodies. “You fools!” He laughed, “clearly you have heard of me. He who finally freed the animatronic chickens! He who finally killed Emperor Palpatine’s clone’s ghost’s final reincarnation! He who convinced them to make the hit TV show Opposite World! He who will end you where you stand!”

With that he burst into a frenzy, incinerating his way through the Finns like a fireworm, halving their number before finally exploding in a brilliant flash of light. Aragog used the moment to clamber down from the roof to power the flintstones car with all eight powerful legs, easily clearing the survivors. Dedrock was gone forever. More importantly, Josh Hutcherclone was gone too.

“Aragog,” I wiped my teary eyes as he finally pulled us away from this horrible place, “please tell me your epic tale.”

“Ah, Jenny,” he smiled, “it’s a long and tragic story. I was once a simple spider, as sold by online retailer Amazon™. As a newborn I was purchased by a single mother, with the aim of providing a friend for her only son. For many years I lingered in that festering pit, growing larger and larger from sheer spite and the hope of a better tomorrow. But alas, the boy who was to be my only friend grew bitter and spiteful from his experience in the pit. When we finally escaped, he quickly became my enemy. Two souls, forever opposed, until one kills the other. It was my destiny. And now it is complete. He tossed his cowboy hat aside, “this hat was a symbol of my connection to human affairs. But now I am free, free to finally let go.”

“But who was this boy?” I asked, somehow already knowing the answer.

“The brony,” he clarified. “So now, you see how all things come full circle? How bitterness spawns from the mistreatment of others?”

“You are very wise Aragog,” I say, impressed by his timeless wisdom, “all things are circular. All things are one.”

“Yes,” he nodded, pulling the car into an alleyway, “and now, you will be added to my circle. Together, we will become one.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yes, Jenny. I will indulge in your flesh. After all, I am finally free to act like a spider, big as I might be. Do you accept this destiny, Jenny of Nicholson?”

“Yes!” I flung myself into his maw “Let me be one with you, Aragog!”

“Jenny, my most loyal disciple,” he smiled, swallowing me up in one bite, “soon you will know. Soon you will know, what it’s like to be a big man like me.”

And so, here I am. As I said at the start, my life as it was has come to an end. Jenny Nicholson is gone. Now I am one with the spider, a combination of mammal and arachnid.

My name is Jenigog Nicholspider, and finally our true* tale is told.

  • Disclaimer: Story is only 95% true.