Thursday, May 04, 2006

Hello Little Fly

Hello Little Fly and thank you for deciding to land on my leg as I surf the Internet. But after doing that for the past fifteen minutes, you've finally irritated me enough to stand up and get the Ultimate Secret Weapon: the plastic and wire handled fly swatter I picked up at the local big box store four years ago for ninety-nine cents. It's a grotesque tool that's crudded up with the dried remains of hundreds of your kind.

You may have watched me with your million eyes sitting here trying to do my own thing and waving my hand to get you to go away. It's a beautiful day here in Timonium. Bright sunshine, 65 degrees, surfing the Internet posting about whatever troubles me today and enjoying a wonderful Kenyan Karogato from Hines Public Market Coffee. I wave my hand to let you know to go fly somewhere else because I don't want to get up.

But you had to make me count...

One...

Two...

Two and a half...

Two and three-quarters...

Three...

Dammit.

That's it. Now you've done it. I've had it. I tried to be "Mister Nice Guy" and let you be but my exposed leg was just too tasty for you to leave alone. And now you shall pay the Ultimate Penalty.

Before I begin, this is a FoodService establishment and I have been certified by ServeSafe and the Baltimore County Department of Environmental Protection as a "certified foodservice manager" which gives me a License To Kill all pests and insects that threated my happy space. License To Kill, I'm the fucking James Bond of the Shave Ice world and you are my Nick Nack. And yes, Mister Nack, you are about to die.

But why is it that once I've returned with my weapon and seated in front of the computer do you decide to fly just out of reach? Happily, my swatter has the Extend-O-Matic option, giving me an extra inch of reach.

And I will strike down upon thee with great vengance, and furious anger. And you will know my name is The Jay when I lay my vengance upon thee

What a shame. What a curious existence you could have had. You didn't realize that in my line of work, I've neutralized thousands of your bretheren. Big, small, fast, tall, it didn't matter. It didn't matter if they were on my body part or on a piece of equipment, the punishment was meted out swiftly and without mercy. You tried to be tricky by staying on the side of my weak arm but I'm an ambidextrous kind of Ninja James Bond. I cut you down (and in half) with my weak arm. Imagine the carnage if I had used the full power and might of the right arm.

Oh yes, Little Fly, I am a stone cold killer. And I have left your split torso with two legs and one wing by the door as a warning to your kind.

2 comments:

Mark said...

Ask Beata sometime about the manical glee in my eye and the "boyaaah!" coming out of my mouth each and every time I hit a fly in our house with a tennis racket-sized electric bug zapper. When they crackle, snap pop really loudly, I get real giddy ;)

melanaise said...

I dig your weblog. I will read it some more before I make a lil button that represents your killer instincts and link to you....gotta be sure.. I don't like many people's logs.

-Melanie