flies and eyes

The last few days have been punctuated by me walking into my room and without fail having an over-sized fly flying around like it owns the place. Is there any greater evidence that there is no god than the existence of flies? Filthy, filthy, disgusting creatures (I showered twice this week, so I'm a go to authority on the subject of personal hygiene).

It wasn't the same fly every time either, unless the rapture and resurrection has already started. I know, because I make sure each of these little fuckers experiences a brutally excruciatingly painful unnecessarily protracted death.

Last night I walk in as I am want to do. And to my unending bemusement, right on cue, a big nasty ass ugly fly's circumnavigating my room. You can't find people this reliable. If this was a cooking show and big nasty was my audience, I'd show him something that I'd prepared earlier, so I show him. Out comes my home brand insect spray. Somethings you can skimp on in life. Some things you can't like 3 ply toilet paper, flies deserve no better than a $2 dollar death. Trust me.

The little shit takes the first wave of fire like a trooper, he's still pumping those wings except for some reason he now thinks he's a moth and keeps flying right at my light, like he's taking the near death experience thing all too literally. That's not a tunnel my friend, please stop. I shrug and unleash wave two and I'm not pulling my spray blasts either, my room's starting look like LA air in peak hour traffic.

That's when it hits me. Yes, that fat ass freak of nature actually dive bombs my head. Newton had apples, I've got flies. Its buzzing, which gradually increases in meter and volume, is really starting to bug me. Why does this have to be so difficult? Just die you little bastard.

I swear now he's approaching something in the vicinity of light speed, I'm ducking and dodging like a seasoned dodge ball pro and starting to feel almost guilty. Is this a good thing I did? It's just getting awkward now, all I wanted was a quick execution type deal (this is classic revisionist history, I wanted the damn thing to suffer, but not enough to make me feel uncomfortable).

After way too long, I lie down secure in the knowledge that I've made the world a better place today by ridding it of another disease ridden piece of hell spawn. But something's wrong, it's not just guilt welling up tears of regret that are now burning in my eyes, it's fly spray.