Oh, it’s on.

I love my apartment.  It’s wonderful.  Except for this one thing.

Every 3 days (I swear that it is this regular), a single fly gets in the apartment.  I’m still not sure how, because all my windows are closed.  But it happens.  There’s no real harm, except for the harm done to my reputation with the people on the rooftop across from me, who have seen me madly swatting at the air.  He flies around.  I open a window and wait for him to fly through.  Then I close the window.  But three days later, there’s another fly in here.

I’m convinced that there are only two possible explanations for this: A) It’s the same fly coming back every three days.  B) The flies are mocking me.

Either way, I’m through with this shit.  So focus all your eyes on this, you little six-legged freaks.  Next time you come in, I’m packing heat.  I’m not opening the fucking window.  I’m actually going to leave it closed just so you can slam your body futilely against it as you flee.  I will not make your death painless.  No RAID or electric swatters.  Poison sugar is definitely a possibility.  Slow-acting acid in the fruit bowl.  Maybe flypaper.  Then I’ll fucking tweeze your legs off and blind your compound eyes one lens at a time with a pin.  So if there’s more than one of you, your little friends are going to think twice before flying in here again.  And if it’s just one of you, it’ll still be enjoyable for me.

You hear that, you tiny, annoying little bastard?  Don’t fuck with me.

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One comment on “Oh, it’s on.

  1. Ryan says:

    That’s not very monkey-boy-like of you…

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