Tuesday, 19 July 2016

I Killed a Bunch of Flies Recently





I don't like to kill things. Most bugs are annoying and creepy, and I'm terrified of spiders. But for the most part, in the UK at least, bugs are harmless. In fact, insects and arachnids are an essential element of the ecosystem—an ecosystem that's been heavily affected by the zany weather we've had over the last few years. With all that in mind, I think killing insects for my own convenience is wrong. I try to avoid it as much as possible.

But yesterday morning, with the temperate creeping towards 30°C, and 20-plus flies buzzing around the flat, something inside me snapped. I found myself pounding down the street like a man possessed, heading towards Poundland with a ten pound note in my pocket. I returned with only one thing:

A cheap plastic fly swat.

Actually, it was two for a pound, so I kept one aside for Emma. You know, like a present.

So I busted into my flat, armed with my floppy yellow tool of justice, and found that Pestilence had had its way with my kitchen: flies on every wall, every surface, loitering on the fridge, crawling over my mugs, chillin' by the sink.

They never saw me coming.

I learnt a valuable lesson that day: Flies look weird when they're mating. I mean, it's a little unsettling. They kinda lock together like parts of some bristly black Megazord. And they can fly, while they're mating. Like, both sets of wings start buzzing, then they take off and bounce off everything, and… man it's weird.

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