November 1, 2011

The Fly Fable



Darting vibrations cut through the silent room; interrupting my peace and interfering with my solitude.  My Spidey Senses start to tingle and I immediately stand on-guard prepared for combat.  With a t-shirt in one hand and a slipper in another, I wait.

A buzzing little fucker darts back and forth, hitting stationary objects that changes direction in its course like a first punched pin ball.  Traveling at speeds close to mach 4, my human eye struggles to follow it and I must rely solely on auditory senses.  It’s silent. I must have scared it away by my stature, girth and choice of weapons.  WRONG.  The fly has landed- on my delicate lamp.  I slowly raise my hand and carefully move closer to the victim as I keep eye contact along the way.  We both have an equal understanding of the situation; there’s no negotiation here.  By the force of momentum and the strength of my biceps, my hand plunges straight down onto the lamp. BAM! Pimp hand strong.  Shattered pieces and broken glass- that fly didn’t stand a chance.

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