Saturday, September 1, 2007
I really could sit around all day and blog. It keeps me sharp. I never know what will come out onto the page, nor do I know whom I will offend or inspire or push over the edge. Today I feel pressed to write about flies. Some of you may or may not know that I work during the day as a 7th grade English teacher, but I also moonlight as a fly hit man. Who would ever guess that 54 years into this party I would FINALLY discover that I do indeed have latent talents in this department! For instance, yesterday I was on duty. My beat held its regulars--the out-of-control-in-your-face guy who is almost as big as a hummingbird. He zooms around the house at full throttle looking for a new place to land (and probably defecate which is what flies do every time they land. Right??). I grabbed a nearby swatter---I have strategically placed a fly swatter approximately every 3 feet withing my grasp. Now the chase was on. My method is not as scientific as Jerry's. He slaps where he predicts the fly will land and has about a 99% positive return rate. I prefer to swing the swatter and bang it down randomly. I somewhat resemble the one time I played golf. I chased this fat boy around the kitchen, circled with him as he teased me at our compost tub, clipped a wing at a window, and then he headed upstairs. Sensing that I had him at least cornered, I tore up the stairs two at a time swinging the swatter in a menacing manner and yelling in my best Nazi gestapo voice, "You villain! I vill get you!!!" When I got into the bedroom, I paused to listen for his motor. Silence. I swatted the floor a few times to let him know I meant business and he'd better come out and play fair. No fly. But I had time and could wait. And wait. And wait. Three chapters later still no fly. Now my experience with flies (and believe me it is vast) has taught me that seldom do flies die of heart attacks or emphysema. Nor do they calmly open doors or sneak back outside through the screen cracks through which they entered. Besides, he was probably off breeding and would hopefully tire of even that and reappear. Later last night I took a portrait of Taggart off the wall in the library to move it up and AND THERE HE WAS!!!!! SLEEPING!!!!!!! Well, I went balistic!!!! My evil twin wanted to start chucking books at him! Corner him in a mayonnaise jar and remove hairy body parts with tweezers while he screamed for mercy!!!!!!! With all the skills I could muster I grabbed a swatter, went into my wind up, and smashed that sucker!!!!!!!! He smeared all over the wall, my swatter, and I think he even hurled a kidney in the direction of my how-to books! I'll teach him how-to...$#@!)!_#)$$(%(($))_#@()#@++!)@)#((($ I may be over the edge here. Today I comtemplated taking the blinds down to see if flies were breeding in the inner workings--you know that bar at the top? I think I'm hallucinating too. Now I see tiny little flying objects. I think they're F.I.T.'s (flies in training) and they seem to outnumber their elders by about 20 to 1. More on this later. Duty calls. bzzzzzzzzzz.....*$((*(&*(??@$#!!!