If flies have their own little nation, then I've just been brought up on war crimes for mass genocide by the fly tribunal!
My, my, my . . . and after just mentioning in this thread about how I abhor killing even insects.
See, I don't know how this happened. But for some reason, around this exact same time of year, I get a huge fly infestation in my kitchen. I have no idea where they come from, since my windows have screens on them. But they all seem to hang out on my blinds in order to catch the day's sun, and don't really bother anyone . . . unless you happen to move the blinds. Which I did.
Now, these flies are weird. They're not normal flies. These flies have green backs, and they are not very coordinated. They don't fly much, and when disturbed immediately return back to their original resting spots just mere seconds later. This, of course, makes them extremely easy to kill. Last year was the first time they showed up in my kitchen. I thought somehow that these were baby flies, and that a pregnant fly must have gotten caught inside my kitchen and this infestation was the result. I even found a dead moth caught in my blinds that seemed to prove this point. And since I didn't want to kill these flies, and also since they were so easy to herd, I merely opened the windows wide and shooed them out into the great outdoors beyond -- to mix and mingle with other flies and be merry. Sure, it was a pain in the ass because some would inevitably fly back in while I was pushing others out. But, by the end of the afternoon, they were all gone and I could rest easy. I never did have a fly problem again.
I walked into my kitchen sometime last week only to find these familiar green-back flies chilling on my blinds again. This time, however, I got MAD and broke my cardinal rule. Now, I had mentioned before that as a child I often wondered if even small creatures like insects might not have souls. Or, at the very least, thoughts and feelings like we do. And, as such, I was always reluctant to kill bugs and their ilk. Except roaches, of course, which in my opinion are the vilest of all living things and should not be suffered to live. Strangely, I never ever had roaches in my apartment, though. Ever. But I do have flies. And unless they are troublesome (i.e., flying in my face, landing on my food), I generally leave them be.
But when they show up in my kitchen in an epic swarm -- uh, no!
Now, you see, I had tried to be the nice guy and exercise the pacifistic approach to pest control last summer. You would think they would be grateful, yet also fearful to ever return again, right? But I guess I had to learn the hard way that sometimes you need to bust some heads to get anything done.
That's right, I went on a fly mass-murdering rampage. Oh I tell you, hell hath no fury like a man with a fly swatter! I shut both windows, open both blinds to stir up the swarm -- and then (pardon the pun) LET FLY! What occurred next were scenes of such intense blood and mayhem as to be too graphic for broadcast tv, folks. I never swatted so many flies in all my life. And where one would drop it seemed like three more showed up in its place. Luckily for me, these flies were slow and dumb. The ones I would miss would not fly too far away, often returning right back to the window and taking a rest. If I missed them the first time, I almost never missed the second time. And although it took me a while, eventually I was able to get 'em all!
All in all I killed 47 flies in that one setting. Yes, 47. And , yes, I counted. My mind naturally tallies numbers even when I don't want it to. Be it jelly beans in a jar . . . or dead, mashed fly carcasses. Apparently it makes no difference.
The next day, I found around 9 more flies that I had no idea how I missed. But, just like before, they decided to camp out on my blinds again. And just like before, I grabbed the ol swatter and went back to work. This time, no one was going to get away to the great outdoors beyond -- to breed and teach their fly kids the way back to to the Shangri-la of my kitchen. No sirree!
So yes, all in all I killed 56 flies in 2 days. But, unfortunately, the story doesn't end there.
I came into my kitchen late Friday night (two days after the great August 11th massacre) and just casually glanced at my blinds as I was throwing some trash away -- and saw two of the HUGEST fucking flies I've ever seen before in my life! HOLY SHIT!!! But, oh ye gods, it gets worse! When I turned on the lights and examined my blinds, I saw even more of these winged behemoths crawling around in silhouette behind the blinds. There seemed to be around 5 in total. Yes, a far cry from the swarm of 56 smaller flies a few days earlier, but still disturbing due to the sheer size of em. And unlike those smaller flies, these were fast and extremely tough to kill. Not even my swatter seemed to have much effect. And, in fact, I broke the handle just attempting to do some damage.
Yes, it seemed the fly nation had sent out a retaliatory force to exact payback for the surprise sneak attack genocide of their brethren and compatriots. I was being BOMBARDED by killer tank flies! It was so bad that I had to resort to a very old and unorthodox method of fly execution which I had not used since my early teenage days when my grandmother's house had been invaded by flies, too. You might be surprised by what this form of attack entails, but I assure you that when your back is pressed to the wall, and the demons are buzzing over your head in ever tightening circles, you can't ask for no better friend to have your back than the weapon I'm about to describe to you.
You only really need two items to assemble this supreme dastardly deterrent to the fly menace invading your shores. The WMD of fly destruction, if you will. All you need is a can of Lysol spray (or any bathroom air freshener). . . and a lighter. Yup, that's right folks. I'm talking your very own home-made flamethrower!
I shit you not. And this baby WORKS! Oh, how does it work indeed!
Now, for really tough, fast as lightning flies like these, here's the method I use. I don't immediately reveal my ace in the hand. No. For fast flies are smart, you see? If they sense you have something big to take them down, they split to all four corners of the house, and then good look finding them now. So, before you let them catch on to what's in store, you give them a little teaser taste of what's to come. I take the Lysol and I spray them dead in the face as they are flying towards me. On lesser flies, one small puff is enough to knock them to the ground twitching. On big behemoth dive-bomber flies like these, however, this only enrages them. But keep tapping that nozzle and, after the third or fourth puff, you can slow them down considerably. The coating on their wings becomes too much for them to bear and they'll start to fly in erratic circles to dry off.
This is when you bring out the lighter. Wait for the arc of the fly's circle to dip low and heading towards you, then flip that lighter on, position it a good arm's length away from you face, lift the aerosol can, and then . . . spray directly into the flame. The resultant explosion of fuel and flame is often fatal to ALL flies on the first try alone. Sometimes, however, the air displacement from the tongue of flame can push the intended target off its course and careening backwards. In this case, wait for the fly to come back into range and try to get it from a diagonal line of attack rather than straight on. This tactic always works if the first does not.
Yes, it might seem extreme. But so long as you are mindful not to throw your flame near any flammable objects in the kitchen, you should be fine. For instance, when the fly escapes the first tongue and lands on the paper towel rack, I hold back. Similarly if it lands on my blinds. The last thing I need is for my whole house to go up in flame just because of one measly fly. So I either shoo it off to get it airborne again, or I swat it with the fly swatter. In the end, it's only a matter of time before one of these methods work.
On that night, in that kitchen, I ended up roasting all 5 flies, plus three more that came from out of nowhere just when I thought I had gotten them all. One last holdout fly I killed with the swatter. In all, then, I annihilated 9 of these huge bastards.
It's been three days now, and so far I've not seen any more flies in my kitchen. I think they got the picture. It still scares me that I have no idea how these mofos got into my kitchen in the first place. Were they part of a reconnaissance mission? Were they waiting to report back to the High Command about the state of our fruit stores? I don't know. All I do know is that I tried to be nice and diplomatically expel them from my borders last year.
This did not work.
So now I've sent a message that I'm not to be trifled with, and that my kitchen is off limits to all flies. I will have to replace my blinds--they're old and dirty anyway--on the off chance that they're somehow breeding grounds for these annoying creatures. But in the future, I hope they stay away.
We shall see. But in the meantime, at least, I'm adding flies to my short list of hated species. The gauntlet's been dropped, you bastards. It's open season in the Batista household. I want you to tell your people about me. Warn your fly children at night . . . that if you mess with me, I will fuckin rain death and destruction down upon your house!
You have been warned, fly nation. Do not cross the DMZ of my hatred for you. It shall not end well, I promise.
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