Musca Domestica - the common housefly. A renegade of that species, very large, most likely on steroids, with anger management issues nearly destroyed our kitchen last night. Ok, so maybe it was me with the rolled up newspaper and lousy aim that smashed the heck out of the kitchen - but hey, THE FLY started it! I don't know how or when he got in but this guy was evil.
Coming home for the evening, I opened the front door to see Piper standing in the kitchen, knees smashed together, feet spread wide, hands flexed into jerking perma-claws, eyes crossed. Sparks shot from her hair like she was being electrocuted. Before I found my voice, she growl-hissed, "FLYYYYYY!!! . . . . . . heavy breathing . . . . THERE'S A CRAZY ASS FLY IN HERE!" I could hear it, them vrrrooooomm, here it came, diving right at me like a WWll fighter pilot! I had to duck or be pelted! Damn! VWwwooshhhh! This was a twin of the one that got in here two weeks ago! Crap, what if it was the SAME one that got in here two weeks ago!!
The kind of flies that grow around here may look normal but they're not. They can't be killed by routine methods. They have to be killed repeatedly because they regenerate - it's true I've seen it with my own eyes. The one that got in here two weeks ago - I had to kill that sucker THREE TIMES before it would stay dead! I smashed it once, scooped up its squishy lifeless body, tossed it into the garbage can, but before it reached the rim, it went POP! in mid-air, was full-bodied and alive again. He turned and came right at me! Next time I had another chance to whap it, I whapped it hard, I mean I NAILED that sucker! He fell to the floor. No movement, it was deformed and squishy again, pretty flat actually. I poked it for good measure - yup, dead. I scooped it up and tossed it into the garbage can for the second time. Two minutes later, I watched it crawl, a little wobbly but still on the move, up and out of the garbage can - fully rejuvenated again! Geeezzzzz, this was kind of creepy. I was almost afraid to kill it again. What if the next time it came back to life it grew 100 times bigger and turned into a flesh eating monster and tried to eat me?! (I watched a lot of old black and white NightMare Theater movies when I was a kid.) The next time IT landed, BLAP! . . . . . . . BLAP! . . . . . BLAP, BLAP, BLAP! Carefully take a peek - didn't want my face bitten off. Hmmm . . . . . . yeah, smeared into a blobby mess. I soaked it up with tissues and flushed it down the toilet. I was taking no more chances. Slept with one eye open for days after that, so see, when this guy showed up last night, I was still freshly traumatized.
But here's where things got really weird - I was all for death by smashing and flushing, however, a gentler, kinder Pip didn't want it killed. Still looking like she'd been attacked by lightening bolts, she whined "Don't kill it! It has a spirit! It's just lost! You can't kill a living thing just because it's lost!" Dropping my bags, "You wanna bet?! Watch me - or not, maybe you should go to your room till this over, it's going to get ugly," I rolled up my sleeves, reached for a fresh newspaper and switched into WarZone Mode. "Noooo Mooooom, Catch and Release Protocol! Catch and Release!"
"What are you NUTS?! I'm not doing Catch and Release on some evil demented zombie bred Fly! If I don't kill it, it'll come back tomorrow and eat us!!"
"Huh?" she looked her bewilderment at me - she never watched NightMare Theater, she didn't get it. I probably could have swayed her to my line of thinking if only I'd mentioned the deadly germs (Pip is a germaphobe) The Fly had all over its creepy little body, probably enough to give us all the plague. Here came the The Fly, zoooowwwwwww . . . . whoosh, I ducked then turned and swung hitting a cup and knocking it over. He went into the dining room. I devised a plan. I wasn't going to chase it down, I was going to let it come to me. Good plan. I waited. I listened. I could hear it making the rounds, then silence. I turned to see where it landed and blip! it came at me from behind and bounced off my head. Up to the light fixture, bounce, bounce, . . . . I can't hit it there, that light fixture is expensive. Bzzzzz, bzzzz, over to the frig. HaHa, got you now! Whap!, refrigerator magnets and papers flew everywhere. The Fly laughed. Oh no, you did not just laugh at me! Vrroooommmm . . . swoop over the stove, around the pot, around the tea kettle, I watched, he was still laughing and I was getting really ticked off. He zoomed up at my face, almost touching me, then swoosh down to the pot again. He slowed, teasing me, I took aim and BLAAAMMMM!!!! Knocked the pot into the tea kettle and the lid went flying. "What's going on out there!" Pip yelled from bedroom. "Death Brigade!" The delicate tinkle of fly laughter was all I heard after that. He took off for the living room. Alright, huff, huff, puff, puff, plan B, I'll pretend like I don't care anymore. I wiped the hair out of my crazed eyes and turned my back on the living room - breathe, breathe. Here he came again, swooping down from the ceiling right at my face, I ducked, he circled around, I started swinging, trying to hit him mid-flight. The only thing I hit was the pot holder rack/key peg thing on the wall. That's it, you evil little freak, YOU'RE GOING DOWN!!! He zoomed over my pile of need to be checked mail, I swung again and wham! - mail everywhere - still no Fly carcass. By now I was filled with intense feelings of malice. Up to the light fixture he zoomed again, bounce, bounce - money, money I'm thinking - he kept bouncing, now he was slowing, slowing and teasing me. Screw the light fixture, be fast as lightening! Small inhale, tightened my grip and jumped swinging for the light with all my might at the same time. The light rattled, The Fly fell to the ground, I pounced and banged the heck and the life out of that little sucker! bam, bam, . . . . bam, bam, bam, . . . . . . . . bam, bam, bam BAMMMMM! I peaked at the intruder. Looked pretty dead to me. I gathered all the gross little parts and flattened pieces and gave them the 'burial by swirling water bowl'.
Crap. Flies can't crawl backwards through bathroom plumbing can they?
Coming home for the evening, I opened the front door to see Piper standing in the kitchen, knees smashed together, feet spread wide, hands flexed into jerking perma-claws, eyes crossed. Sparks shot from her hair like she was being electrocuted. Before I found my voice, she growl-hissed, "FLYYYYYY!!! . . . . . . heavy breathing . . . . THERE'S A CRAZY ASS FLY IN HERE!" I could hear it, them vrrrooooomm, here it came, diving right at me like a WWll fighter pilot! I had to duck or be pelted! Damn! VWwwooshhhh! This was a twin of the one that got in here two weeks ago! Crap, what if it was the SAME one that got in here two weeks ago!!
The kind of flies that grow around here may look normal but they're not. They can't be killed by routine methods. They have to be killed repeatedly because they regenerate - it's true I've seen it with my own eyes. The one that got in here two weeks ago - I had to kill that sucker THREE TIMES before it would stay dead! I smashed it once, scooped up its squishy lifeless body, tossed it into the garbage can, but before it reached the rim, it went POP! in mid-air, was full-bodied and alive again. He turned and came right at me! Next time I had another chance to whap it, I whapped it hard, I mean I NAILED that sucker! He fell to the floor. No movement, it was deformed and squishy again, pretty flat actually. I poked it for good measure - yup, dead. I scooped it up and tossed it into the garbage can for the second time. Two minutes later, I watched it crawl, a little wobbly but still on the move, up and out of the garbage can - fully rejuvenated again! Geeezzzzz, this was kind of creepy. I was almost afraid to kill it again. What if the next time it came back to life it grew 100 times bigger and turned into a flesh eating monster and tried to eat me?! (I watched a lot of old black and white NightMare Theater movies when I was a kid.) The next time IT landed, BLAP! . . . . . . . BLAP! . . . . . BLAP, BLAP, BLAP! Carefully take a peek - didn't want my face bitten off. Hmmm . . . . . . yeah, smeared into a blobby mess. I soaked it up with tissues and flushed it down the toilet. I was taking no more chances. Slept with one eye open for days after that, so see, when this guy showed up last night, I was still freshly traumatized.
But here's where things got really weird - I was all for death by smashing and flushing, however, a gentler, kinder Pip didn't want it killed. Still looking like she'd been attacked by lightening bolts, she whined "Don't kill it! It has a spirit! It's just lost! You can't kill a living thing just because it's lost!" Dropping my bags, "You wanna bet?! Watch me - or not, maybe you should go to your room till this over, it's going to get ugly," I rolled up my sleeves, reached for a fresh newspaper and switched into WarZone Mode. "Noooo Mooooom, Catch and Release Protocol! Catch and Release!"
"What are you NUTS?! I'm not doing Catch and Release on some evil demented zombie bred Fly! If I don't kill it, it'll come back tomorrow and eat us!!"
"Huh?" she looked her bewilderment at me - she never watched NightMare Theater, she didn't get it. I probably could have swayed her to my line of thinking if only I'd mentioned the deadly germs (Pip is a germaphobe) The Fly had all over its creepy little body, probably enough to give us all the plague. Here came the The Fly, zoooowwwwwww . . . . whoosh, I ducked then turned and swung hitting a cup and knocking it over. He went into the dining room. I devised a plan. I wasn't going to chase it down, I was going to let it come to me. Good plan. I waited. I listened. I could hear it making the rounds, then silence. I turned to see where it landed and blip! it came at me from behind and bounced off my head. Up to the light fixture, bounce, bounce, . . . . I can't hit it there, that light fixture is expensive. Bzzzzz, bzzzz, over to the frig. HaHa, got you now! Whap!, refrigerator magnets and papers flew everywhere. The Fly laughed. Oh no, you did not just laugh at me! Vrroooommmm . . . swoop over the stove, around the pot, around the tea kettle, I watched, he was still laughing and I was getting really ticked off. He zoomed up at my face, almost touching me, then swoosh down to the pot again. He slowed, teasing me, I took aim and BLAAAMMMM!!!! Knocked the pot into the tea kettle and the lid went flying. "What's going on out there!" Pip yelled from bedroom. "Death Brigade!" The delicate tinkle of fly laughter was all I heard after that. He took off for the living room. Alright, huff, huff, puff, puff, plan B, I'll pretend like I don't care anymore. I wiped the hair out of my crazed eyes and turned my back on the living room - breathe, breathe. Here he came again, swooping down from the ceiling right at my face, I ducked, he circled around, I started swinging, trying to hit him mid-flight. The only thing I hit was the pot holder rack/key peg thing on the wall. That's it, you evil little freak, YOU'RE GOING DOWN!!! He zoomed over my pile of need to be checked mail, I swung again and wham! - mail everywhere - still no Fly carcass. By now I was filled with intense feelings of malice. Up to the light fixture he zoomed again, bounce, bounce - money, money I'm thinking - he kept bouncing, now he was slowing, slowing and teasing me. Screw the light fixture, be fast as lightening! Small inhale, tightened my grip and jumped swinging for the light with all my might at the same time. The light rattled, The Fly fell to the ground, I pounced and banged the heck and the life out of that little sucker! bam, bam, . . . . bam, bam, bam, . . . . . . . . bam, bam, bam BAMMMMM! I peaked at the intruder. Looked pretty dead to me. I gathered all the gross little parts and flattened pieces and gave them the 'burial by swirling water bowl'.
Crap. Flies can't crawl backwards through bathroom plumbing can they?