What is the purpose of a fly? Seriously. And by that I am referring to the common housefly that multiplies by the millions when heat and humidity come together to form a force of weather known colloquially in my homeland as ‘this bloody heat’. I’m sure that there is a perfectly reasonable biological explanation for the existence of these little buggers. Probably several considering that the word fly actually refers to an entire genus of species but right now, after weeks of listening to the sound of buzzing as they trespass upon my space and sanity, I care not for the logic of science.
Even as I am writing this, one of them has decided to intrude. Flying back and forth. Over here and over there. Near the window. Near the door. By the television and on the floor. Bah and meh in equal measure! The agitation brought forth by this feckless fiend is even causing me to write in rhyme and I’ve not the time to adequately describe these sentiments as couplets of poetry in my mind. Curse you fly for your unintentional and grating effect upon my thoughts. Do you not see how you inconvenience me?! Bastard!
I can abide almost any creature that dwells on this earth. Or in my property as it were. Spiders, moths, beetles and all sorts of little house invaders have come and gone and I am content to let them be for the most part, even helping them out if they get stuck on occasion. Insects and arachnids don’t really bother me. Why? Because they are silent, quiet, and usually tending to their own business far and away from me. They may as well not exist were it not for my perceptive tendencies to frequently analyse ever corner of my home. Especially when that spider dwelling below the window, I’ve named him Goran the Vanquisher, keeps leaving little desiccated corpses wrapped in webbing near the bottom of my desk like little trophies of its never ending conquest to survive. Some days it seems that Goran is my only ally in this war. I sometimes daydream that he will one day lead his fellow arachnids into battle against the bloated black army as they fight to the theme of Flight of the Valkyries. What a glorious day, and mess, that would be!
Important message folks. Don’t kill the spiders. They are your allies against the flies, not the enemy.
Silence is the key in this scenario. Do what you must tiny creatures, I know you haven’t the ability to comprehend your intrusion. You just want a safe place to exist without fear of having your life extinguished by the shoe of someone who thinks you to be a far greater threat than you actually are. But do it quietly and we are good, you and I. Not the fly though. No. This foul creature conjured from the moist, sweaty bowels of summer’s cesspits has a different set of rules. Another agenda entirely and one born of a need to aggravate. It wanders in without a care through the crack of an open window during the heat of the noon sun and proceeds to buzz about aimlessly and pointlessly like the little fuck nugget that it is.
It’s staring at me now. It has ceased its incessant folly for a moment and is now perched on the blinds, no doubt looking at the windows and wondering what magical force it is that prevents him from flying out as he contemplates repeatedly bashing against the glass. A never ending attempt to correct an error made time and time again every time one of the daft sods decides that flying into the crack of an open window is actually an endeavour worth attempting. Those windows need to remain open lest my body succumb to the ravages of this season’s particularly vicious cycle of “fuck you humans, you’re going to burn!”, a season that no amount of ice cream can help alleviate the scorching sizzle that befalls my smooth head. It is as if each bead of sweat that cascades from my bonce is an invitation to the black hordes from outside to bombard us with their relentless pursuit of whatever the bloody hell it is that they want. Poop! Lots and lots of poop most likely, the grubby little fuck weasels!
I won’t kill them though………
Hold on a second. The little fucker thinks the vicinity around my head is good place to be right now. Sod off you rage inducing waste of effort!! My dog is no help either. He’s more likely to start barking at me when my efforts to dispel the offender produce some form of noise that he perceives to be a threat. I’m not the threat my little mops. I am chasing it back ‘into the fiery chasm from whence it came’. And yes, my fellow Lord of the Rings fans, I do pursue my winged foes with the same contempt for this evil as does Elrond when demanding Isildur stop being such a selfish wank pheasant and throw his shiny new bling into the volcanic river of fire below.
Anyway, as I was previously stating, I won’t kill them if I can help it. Instead I have embarked on an aggravating campaign that involves flailing my arms on an almost daily basis as I usher the perpetrators into an enclosed space behind a shut door, such as my bathroom, until they eventually realise it is in fact a good idea to fly out of the wide open window instead of falling prey to the swing of my palm as I swoop my hands to muster gusts of air strong enough to guide them to a more favourable destination. More favourable for both of us.
I know this won’t last long as the summer months turn to autumn. I am aware that come winter the cold will claim these hordes and I will stand smiling in my garden as I appreciate the sight of my breath in front of my eyes. Until then I will continue my one man war just so that I might have some peace from their foolishness. That fly has flown off down the hallway now which is my cue to give chase and remove the trespasser from my castle. Time to fly away and pester someone else you dimwitted abomination of nature.
Winter can’t come soon enough.
Forged from Reverie.