Early this morning, in the hours of darkness, I awoke to tickles on my lip. Romantic, you might think? Hardly. A faint buzzing accompanied the tickle, jolting me into consciousness as I have terrible reactions to mosquito bites. I flipped on my light and blinked myself awake. Hmm, a fly buzzed overheard. A rather fat one, but only a fly. And then another, and another and...There must have been 10 flies in my bedroom, on the ceiling, on my nightstand, on ME! Oh, the horror. I hate flies. They're ugly, dirty, and oh, the places they've been, well...
I tried shaking off my sleepy fog to discover why there was a fly family in my bedroom. I don't have a fly swatter because I never have flies to swat. But, I do have a giant spatula. So, off to the kitchen I shuffled. Bumping into a few items on the way, I imagined more buzzing around my head. I flicked the kitchen light on and BAM! Not only did another flock of flies greet me but good Lord! A smell so sour and rank I coughed and covered my nose with both hands.
There, in my beautiful sink, were the regurgitations of more than one family's evening meals. I live on the ground floor of a three-story condo complex and while I do love my surroundings, it truly sucks to be on the bottom of everyone's plumbing issues. So there, in smelly glory, were corn kernels, bits of noodle, some rice, pieces of a cheese-like substance, a lot of black chunks and filmy liquid. But these flies!
How did this infestation happen so quickly? I still don't understand it. They danced around the filth juice, buzzing back and forth between my head and the sink. And so unleashed my rage. I snatched my spatula and went into commando mode. "Prepare to die, flies!" I squealed with bizarre excitement I can only describe as giddiness, after the fact. Is this the rush murderers are addicted to? I digress. I have an active imagination. What can I say?
Those flies were quick little nasties and I was soon talking like a seasoned trucker. But, one by one, I pounced and smashed them to death. Between my bedroom and kitchen, I made two little death piles with their bodies, some still writhing in their final moments. Perhaps most disturbing, I leaned down to the kitchen death pile and said, rather loudly, "What's up now, flies!"
Anyhow, after scooping all the corpses into the trash and promptly taking it out to the bins, I am left exhausted at only 6:30 a.m. It took me the better part of an hour to complete my death wand massacre, but I am extremely pleased with myself. I cleaned out my sink and sprayed it with orange oil (a natural pest deterrent) and sit poised to call maintenance at 8:00.
I make myself a nice pot of coffee and reach for the sugar. There, on top of my canister, a lone survivor. A single, fat, laughing fly rubbing its hands together and mocking me. Excuse me while I get my death wand...