Thursday, July 06, 2006

Lord of the Flies

Yesterday sucked. It sucked as soon as I woke up from a restful sleep feeling completely unrested, bags so big under my eyes I'd have to check them at the airport and pick them up at my final destination. It continued to suck as I forgot which Korea had nuclear capabilities. The suck was unabated when I went home and found about ten friends flying around my windows. By "friends" I mean giant, fuck-off flies.

I don't know what lead to the boom in the fly population in my apartment. I have two windows at my place, one large and dead facing the street, another smaller and facing the stairs of the apartment next to mine. When I moved in, many bugs came in through the big window, so I kept that one closed and left the little one open, which seemed to satisfy my need for air and also kept the bugs to a minimum. All that changed yesterday. Maybe it was something to do with the grass being mowed, or perhaps what must have been giant piles of trash from the fireworks. In either case, I was not pleased.

I came in, and heard them before I saw them. The sinister deep bzzzzzz of big black flies. I don't know their actual scientific name, but I have seen smaller hummingbirds at my Mom's house. I saw them, a gang of annoying motherfuckers, desperately thrashing themselves against the window trying to get back outside. I dropped my mail and bags on the floor, climbed onto my desk, and slammed the window shut, trapping about six flies between the screen and the glass. There were still a number of flies stuck inside. I slipped off a flip-flop, and starting smashing against the blinds.

Since they are big giant fucking flies, they seemed to have no fear of flying directly at my head as they flew from the swinging blinds toward my bathroom toward what they no doubt thought would be freedom. They flew at my knees on the return to the window. One of them landed on a mojito-soaked towel from my Motley-Crue-level of apartment trashing levels (swinging foot + almost-full mojito = big fucking mess and embarrassment) and I smooshed him. Another landed on my Chia herb garden I have yet to plant, and I killed him, his mangled corpse visible in the setting sun. I showed mercy and let one fly out my front door. It was like the storming of Normandy in my house last night, and big smooshy fly corpses littered my apartment. It was as gory as the first twenty minutes of Saving Private Ryan, but on a smaller scale.

I took a break from the battle, weary from my sucky day turned suckier by vermin, heated up some pasta salad (the flies resumed zooming at me when the smell of pesto filled the apartment) and watched some of the Chapelle Show DVD I got from Netflix. (Why had I not watched this before? It's hilarious.) A couple bold-ass flies headed toward my monitor, but I shooed them off. One fly landed on the inside of my water cup, leading me to curse since I wouldn't be able to drink water until I scrubbed it clean again.

Once I had eaten and filled my dirty dishes with water in the sink, I took up my weapon, and wandered around the apartment with one flip-flop on, one flip-flop my mighty sword, and continued slaying the seemingly computer-generated flies. As the night wore on and my creativity with foul language increased, I began to notice that if the flies weren't completely dead (read: gormy) when I hit them, they would start limping along again, so I think I was "killing" the same flies over and over again.

Around 9:30, I resigned myself to bed, figuring if I didn't get some sleep I'd probably have to commit myself this morning. I turned on the horrible fluorescent light above my bed to fume to my journal, I heard the sinister "bizz bzz bzz tink" of a fly on a light. Drawn and frustrated by the light, it buzzed and bounced around, desperately seeking a way to get out of the drop ceiling the light is encased in. I wrote a little, realized it was after ten, then turned off the light and fell fast asleep.

I woke up this morning, and didn't see any flies as I stumbled into the bathroom. When I came out, I saw two bastards sitting on the blinds, mocking me. I slipped off my flip-flop, smacked the blinds a couple of times, and headed to work. I hope that they don't reproduce while I am at work, leaving me another night of epic vermin fighting.

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