Death Duo

I was taunted by a fly today. He ended up dead.

The conditions were perfect to write which is not to say that that is an odd thing. There are many times conditions have been perfect it’s just that they are not always pounced upon by yours truly. Often I end up getting distracted by internet searches leading to further internet searches leading to even further searches and suddenly what had started out as a search for DMV locations has inexplicably driven me into a bog of random facts about tracheotomies and how to perform them. I’m licensed now, by the way.

So the conditions were perfect. Ty was out riding, Thea was flopped on the cool kitchen tile, and I had officially recovered from my hangover. I opened my laptop on the kitchen table and settled myself on the chair. Okay, time to write. But no—some peon of a creature, which I’m sure serves no other purpose than to incite madness and butcher peace, had decided that I would not be writing that night. I don’t normally feel this strongly about flies, just so you know. Normally I find them only mildly annoying and thoroughly ignorable. In fact there is a fly by me right now that is not even close to igniting the amount of incredulous rage brought about by the first. (You must all be wondering at this point, just what sort of sty I inhabit. It’s summertime folks. Doors stay open, flies fly in—manure or not.)

Anyway, back to the waste of space transient that decided to my push buttons. I was being circled. Around and around and around. Soft buzz, loud buzz, soft buzz, loud buzz, soft buzz, loud buzz. There was no way I could do anything other than try to dispose of this distraction. Swatting wildly around my head anytime the fly zipped by only made me look like a comical lunatic. Trying to chart its trajectory in hopes of a surprise ambush also proved unsuccessful, and getting Thea to chase it was out of the question. This dog don’t hunt.

For my next trick I tried opening the garage door and gently wafting it out of the kitchen. Thea went, the fly stayed. I was going bonkers, getting desperate and only inches away from busting out the chopsticks and blindfold. The whole fly-in-my-ear canal bit was getting reeeaaallly old. Then, in a last ditch little tweak of my opened door attempt, I turned off the kitchen light and turned on the garage light, hoping that the fly would be attracted to the glorious yellow hue reaching out to it. But no, I had to get the fly that likes white light which I soon discovered when the buzzing stopped and I looked back from my perch at the door. There was the fly all stretched out on my hot white Mac, probably flipping me off from the very tool that he was keeping me from using.

Maybe it was the image of my defiled laptop, maybe it was the smugness with which he sat there, maybe it was the both, but something inside of me burst out quicker than Neo’s bullet limbo and bitch slapped that fly right off my computer. Down it went, wriggling on the ground and at the complete and utter mercy of Thea the dog. This is something she could hunt. There was no mercy for this fly; the last thing its eyes probably saw was a big bubble gum tongue flipping it straight down the throat. Good-bye fly—hello fly guts on my LCD screen. Yeah, there was that. A small price to pay, I suppose, for a little freakin peace and quiet

So that’s how the demon fly died—a tag team effort by my dog and me. With my quickness and her appetite, the fly community better stay clear. This is one duo that doesn’t just kill you. We kill you and write about it.