Sunday, December 16, 2007

The tormentor fly.

I've killed that fly a dozen times in the past three or so weeks, and yet each time I go outside for a smoke he's there waiting for me.

I'm hot and miserable already. Sweat is dripping off my brow within a few minutes. It's too damn hot for confrontations. But that doesn't seem to matter because the fly buzzes around my head as though I were dead; picking at morsels of flesh and laying eggs in my scalp. I'm sure of it.

I can almost feel them breeding on my dandruff. Each time it lands on me I flinch because I can feel its tongue licking the salt from my body. That instrument leaves traces of fly saliva that I can't seem to wash off no matter how hard I try.

I've killed it a dozen times. I swear it. But each afternoon a replacement approaches from my blind side and begins to work on me, hastily nibbling on me before I take a swat at it, and all the while I'm sitting on the porch in misery and discomfort from the heat.

I can't stand it anymore. What am I going to do? I've become afraid to venture outside for fear that it will tickle my ear with its sickening whispers and foul laughter. The mind of a fly is a corruption that I find insanely jealous. I don't know how much longer I can take the fly's torture. What can I do? I am afraid that soon, I may start a buzz in the community, if I am caught chasing this demon about with a shovel. But I'm in distress from the heat and don't care at the moment. I just need to fly away from my problems and forget what'd I've heard from him.

I've become too disturbed by the tormentor fly to care if I live for his diet or die.


kimmirich said...

Ohh, Jon, only you can bring such hilarity, and smiles with your wonderful writing! I'm linking you into my blog so others can see and share,

Anonymous said...

I have had nits flying around my head while I was reading or enjoying my morning coffee. Mind you, I was not outside. Darned annoying. Couldn't swat them because they are so small. They were driving me nuts. Good story.