Just like that aberration in the same-named movie, the fly started annoying with a soft buzz on her right side. She had just settled down to read before bed. Cushions had been propped carefully, the comforter tucked across her legs and lap and the book in the perfect halo of the lamp. The room was cozy and quiet...except for that damned fly. He was closer now. She heard the buzz just behind and above her head. How on earth could one have a fly in the bedroom in the middle of December? Was this some Superfly that had hung out in the garage in semi-dormant sleep these past weeks just waiting for the door to be held open for the perfect moment so that he could enter this castle of warmth? This was more than annoying and oddly a little scary. She felt somewhat powerless.
She turned her head and saw it was a small common house fly as it darted beneath the brass lamp cover and sat so close to the bulb he would certainly fry. She batted lightly at the lamp with her book and he flew out and away to another part of the room. She could still hear the annoying buzz and soon it got closer once again, ever annoying and even more scary this time. Was it going to fly in her hair, her ear, down her pajama top and buzz her to death?
She swung crazily behind her head with the open book and she could hear it once again dancing above her head toward the ceiling. Maybe it was a little angrier,or was that just her imagination?
Sighing in frustration she knew that turning off her light and turning on the hall light and sitting in the dark would cause him to leave the room in pursuit of a new artificial sun and she could close the door behind him after turning off the hall light. But her husband would be coming to bed shortly and opening the door and starting this whole war all over again. She threw off the covers and headed for the laundry room to retrieve that high technology tool, a fly swatter.
When she returned there he sat on the wall as if it was summer sunbathing, just above the glow of the lamp. She gave him her best shot, which was not good enough, since he darted once again under the brass cover of the lamp. She prodded somewhat carelessly with the edge of the swatter beside the bulb and then was rewarded with a thwup as something small hit either the back of the mattress, or the pillow, or the floor. She looked everywhere carefully. She listened for many minutes for the awakening buzz. Nothing revealed a fly. Finally in resignation she carefully crawled back into her bed and renewed her nighttime rituals. The evening passed without further incident.
In the morning she had forgotten the intruder as she headed to the kitchen for her wake-up coffee.
When she crossed the kitchen floor she noticed a small dot on the warm wood which upon closer inspection was the fly bathing in the light of the kitchen on his back feet up in the air with no modesty at all. She didn't know whether to be relieved that he met his death or mystified at how and why he died here.
She turned her head and saw it was a small common house fly as it darted beneath the brass lamp cover and sat so close to the bulb he would certainly fry. She batted lightly at the lamp with her book and he flew out and away to another part of the room. She could still hear the annoying buzz and soon it got closer once again, ever annoying and even more scary this time. Was it going to fly in her hair, her ear, down her pajama top and buzz her to death?
She swung crazily behind her head with the open book and she could hear it once again dancing above her head toward the ceiling. Maybe it was a little angrier,or was that just her imagination?
Sighing in frustration she knew that turning off her light and turning on the hall light and sitting in the dark would cause him to leave the room in pursuit of a new artificial sun and she could close the door behind him after turning off the hall light. But her husband would be coming to bed shortly and opening the door and starting this whole war all over again. She threw off the covers and headed for the laundry room to retrieve that high technology tool, a fly swatter.
When she returned there he sat on the wall as if it was summer sunbathing, just above the glow of the lamp. She gave him her best shot, which was not good enough, since he darted once again under the brass cover of the lamp. She prodded somewhat carelessly with the edge of the swatter beside the bulb and then was rewarded with a thwup as something small hit either the back of the mattress, or the pillow, or the floor. She looked everywhere carefully. She listened for many minutes for the awakening buzz. Nothing revealed a fly. Finally in resignation she carefully crawled back into her bed and renewed her nighttime rituals. The evening passed without further incident.
In the morning she had forgotten the intruder as she headed to the kitchen for her wake-up coffee.
When she crossed the kitchen floor she noticed a small dot on the warm wood which upon closer inspection was the fly bathing in the light of the kitchen on his back feet up in the air with no modesty at all. She didn't know whether to be relieved that he met his death or mystified at how and why he died here.
Poor fly. You made him seem so clever it was hard to accept his demise.
ReplyDeleteI have had same experience. Now I have what looks like a mosquito under the lamp on my computer desk.
ReplyDeleteHave not been able to capture.
Suffering from severe sinus with a fever :(
Merry Christmas to you and enjoy your family and those beautiful grandchildren...
OMG! I have flies, too! Where are they coming from? Very odd. Almost like an Alfred Hitchcock movie.
ReplyDeleteLove the "high tech" description of a fly swatter.
It's like a haunting!
ReplyDeletePeace to you this season!
Dear Tabor,
ReplyDeleteThanks for the visiting and greetings.
Merry Christmas!
Wishing you and your loved ones peace, health and happiness in the New Year.