A Heinous Act Of Questionable Authenticity

I am feuding with a fall fly. How he gained egress to the Mansion is merely a theory, but I'm betting on The Pony's habit of leaving the kitchen door open when he sets out a plate of food for the puppy. When I chastise him, he comes inside and watches through the slots in the mini-blind built into the door window.

A fall fly is a lumbering, slow-witted pest that evades reasonable attempts to end his life. He does this with luck, not smarts. He waits until I nod off in the recliner to crawl upon my face. When I startle awake, he begins a lazy reconnaissance mission of ever-smaller concentric circles. Then he lands on an arm, or a stack of magazines that lean precariously toward the lamp with a loose bulb. He drifts heavily away when I reach for the murder weapon. And it's there, by cracky! A blue plastic flyswatter with a white wire handle rests upon the lamp table. At the ready.

Tonight, Mr. Fly has invaded my dark basement lair. It's my own fault, really. I turned on the light. Mr. Fly saw that as an invitation. He has swooped my head, landed numerous times on the monitor of New Delly, and danced like double-left-footed team mascot away from the danger that is a rolled-up Woman Within catalog.

Do I go to Mr. Fly's place of business and recreation, and interfere with his livelihood? Do I? Have you seen me gliding in and prancing about a steaming cow patty? I think not.

Okay. The charade is over. The Truth in Blogging Law requires me to inform you that Mr. Fly met his demise shortly after I typed the non-immortal words: "I am feuding with a fall fly. How he gained egress..." at the beginning of this post. But I couldn't stop then. I had the whole concept thought up in my head. To not write it would be a waste of a good five minutes.

Here's how it went down. I was merrily typing away when Mr. Fly appeared on the New Delly landing strip again. I grabbed my Woman Within. He sailed away. Mr. Fly returned to sit upon my keyboard. Ha! I'm not that dumb, to whack my own keyboard. He crawled around. And set out down the wire that leads to the tower.

THWACK!!!

I scooped up the remains in a Puffs with Aloe. A clean one, even. I squeezed it to make sure Mr. Fly had expired. Then I deposited him in a wastebasket lined with a Devil's bag. So simple.