The fly fixation

Photo by Nixon Johnson on

In a field out there somewhere, there is a convocation of flies, having their end of summer conference. There are a lot them, floating around, fat, lazy and ready to make their winter plans.

The meeting will be called to order by Hal, a huge, experienced horsefly who has dodged many a flyswatter over the summer and has earned the respect of the rest of them by flying directly onto the potato salad at the Smiths’ barbecue and living to tell the tale!

But he has something more serious on his mind now than hysterical picnic-goers. “Men,” he begins solemnly and then catches the eye of some disgruntled females, “very well, fellow flies,” he amends, “it is time to get serious about where we are going to outlast the winter.”

“It’s useless,” moans Freida, a tattered fly who has seen more than her share of disappointed moments on the garbage pile. “I have all but shredded my wings trying to make it through some of these screens people put up on their windows. I can’t find a way inside.”

“Even if we can, those humans with flyswatters are cruel and relentless,” adds Harold, one of the smaller, more irritating flies whose specialty is flitting in people’s faces. “There is no place safe for a decent fly to hang out, either inside or out.”

“On the contrary,” Hal holds up a conciliatory wing, demanding the attention of the others. “I and my team have been doing extensive research and we have a place where we will be safe and well-fed for months to come.”

“Where!” exclaimed the other flies in excitement.

“It’s simple: the Fauth household. There are always holes in the screens because they have a cat, so entry is no problem.”

“A cat!” Freida screamed. “But they can be even worse than humans.”

“Not this cat,” Hal sneered. “It’s fat and lazy and doesn’t do a whole lot that requires work. She won’t bother us.”

“What about the humans,” Harold questioned, hope of flying into more human eyes growing in his breast. “Won’t they have flyswatters?”

“Oh, the best,” Hal responds. “But they can’t hit the broad side of a barn with them. We couldn’t be safer and I’m told it’s highly entertaining to watch them running around, slamming the flyswatters on counters and walls and ceiling without doing any damage to us at all.”

“I’ve heard about that place,” Freida said excitedly, then she sobered. “Oh, but I did hear that the Enderson hatchling was killed there. They must not always miss.”

“The Enderson fly was lost there,” Hal said somberly, “but he was young and cocky. He stayed too long on that Fauth woman’s foot, believing she couldn’t get him and unfortunately, she got lucky. But that’s the only one she’s taken out all year. This is the place, my fellow flies.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s get to the Fauth household!” Harold yelled, leading the way for the swarm to follow.

And that’s how it happened that my house has been invaded. I can only assume that it is a deliberate invasion because I can’t imagine any other way that every fly for a thousand miles has suddenly descended on my house. I hope the rest of you are having a fly-free week because they have definitely fixated on me!

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