He was just a little fly, but I hated him. He had spunk, I'll give him that. He deliberately buzzed my face.
That was the breaking point. The fly had to die. I got an old magazine and rolled it up. Turning off all the lights except for the kitchen, I waited. Sure enough, my target flew towards the light (prophetic that).
The kitchen makes for a good killing zone. its all white, and little flies tend to stand out.
And there he was, my first swing missed. but he was defiant, and buzzed me again. I swung just to fend him off, and whap! Got him! A mid air swing, and I felt the hit. After a brief search I found him on the floor, not dead, but stunned. So I gently picked him up with Kleenex and dropped him in the commode. The cold water must have revived the little fly, cause he started kicking his legs, but he couldn't break thru wet tissue.
I laughed. I taunted him. I flushed. and down he went to a watery grave. But I wonder...is he really dead? Or is he plotting revenge from the depths of a dark sewer?
and what about his friends? Do they know that little Johny bought it? Are they holding little fly wakes for the poor little bugger? or are they too, plotting revenge?
Sometimes, I can almost hear them saying, "We know you killed our friend." and then I hear the ZAP! as another one meets electric doom. Bwa Ha Ha Ha! They probably make scary bug movies about me.
He was just a little fly, but I hated him. He had spunk, I'll give him that. He deliberately buzzed my face.
That was the breaking point. The fly had to die. I got an old magazine and rolled it up. Turning off all the lights except for the kitchen, I waited. Sure enough, my target flew towards the light (prophetic that).
The kitchen makes for a good killing zone. its all white, and little flies tend to stand out.
And there he was, my first swing missed. but he was defiant, and buzzed me again. I swung just to fend him off, and whap! Got him! A mid air swing, and I felt the hit. After a brief search I found him on the floor, not dead, but stunned. So I gently picked him up with Kleenex and dropped him in the commode. The cold water must have revived the little fly, cause he started kicking his legs, but he couldn't break thru wet tissue.
I laughed. I taunted him. I flushed. and down he went to a watery grave. But I wonder...is he really dead? Or is he plotting revenge from the depths of a dark sewer?
and what about his friends? Do they know that little Johny bought it? Are they holding little fly wakes for the poor little bugger? or are they too, plotting revenge?
Sometimes, I can almost hear them saying, "We know you killed our friend." and then I hear the ZAP! as another one meets electric doom. Bwa Ha Ha Ha! They probably make scary bug movies about me.