Lord, It’s The Flies
FLIES! I HATE FLIES! FLIES HATE ME! We have a mutual Destruction Agreement. I try to kill them and they try to drive me bonkers.
With the advent of warm weather the fly population has skyrocketed. It’s either that or they are being imported from elsewhere to torment me.
Something must be done and yet some people say that it is my own fault. There are those who put the blame on the way I dress. I disagree. Flies are not attracted to my Hawaiian Shirts. Just because my shirts are brightly colored and floral looking doesn’t mean that flies are drawn to me. Hummingbirds maybe, but not flies. I could accept their theory if I was wearing shirts that looked like rotting meat or cow dung, but not a bunch of Hibiscus blooms.
I’m sitting here trying to write and a fly has just landed on my pen. That is a fly with brass ones. It is also a fly living on borrowed time. The audacity of these critters is turning me into Liam Neeson.
“I will find you and I will kill you.”
I don’t think that I am overreacting when I admit that I am making plans to nuke all flies. I know that is hyperbole, but not by much.
I move outside trying to read while enjoying the sunshine and a fly lands on my glasses. We are eyeball to five eyeballs. I looked it up – flies have five eyes. It’s not fair.
Enter “The Equalizer!”
My wife, the lovely and greatly hand-eye coordinated, Dawn, has purchased a flyswatter.
Yet another reason I love her.
All of those fancy-schmancy high tech electronic bug repellant gizmos aren’t worth a bucket of warm spit. Low tech is better than high tech. I don’t want to repel or drive away the flies. I want them dead.
Do you hear me flies? I’m coming for you. That sound you don’t hear – that’s me coming up behind you with a rolled up newspaper.
The other day I was whacking at some flies that were invading St. Arbucks when some college kid decided to impress me with his juvenile moral superiority. Obviously he had just come from his Freshman Philosophy class.
“You shouldn’t kill flies. They have as much a right to be here as you do. All life is sacred.” He was quite proud.
I stopped swatting. I looked at him and nodded, and then I replied.
I doubt that he will actually be able to do to himself what I suggested without some surgical reconstruction. He did not seem to understand me, but at least he left and I resumed my campaign to create a “Fly-Free Zone.”
Swatting flies may not be the best way for an educated man to spend his day, but it’s better than wasting two hours writing about it.