A swarm of angry flies took me by surprise this week, but I had the last laugh. I returned home from work on a hot and sunny Thursday afternoon and opened a window in the top floor bedroom. As the window opened, a black wall of flies headed towards me from inside the window frame where they had been clearly waiting for me. Now I’m not squeamish about insects of any kind, and I often try to catch spiders and release them humanely outside, but this bunch of scum-sucking, turd-licking, buzzing bugs really freaked me out. So I rushed downstairs for the fly spray and exacted my cold and calculated revenge.
I tell you, that fly spray stuff is awesome. A few seconds after spraying the poo-eating blighters they were mostly flailing around on the floor, shouting out various cries of remorse for daring to enter my house. The odd few landed on the window sill, where their wings thrashed and their bodies spun around like they were performing a break-dance. I walked away with blood on my hands and a smile on my face . . . until I heard a buzzing from the loft.
I opened the loft hatch and a second, even agrier, swarm of flies flew down and surrounded me. Questions were asked about my harsh treatment of their friends, but I was in no mood for negotiation. A few more sprays and I was soon surrounded by another posse of break-dancing flies. Thankfully there was no repeat of events on Friday afternoon, although I stocked up on another can of spray just in case. I’m hoping they’ve got the message by now, especially as I have left a few of the plumper corpses on display on the window sill as a grizzly warning to all those outside.
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