The Death of A Fly
Aren’t you glad you come here? Where else could you get such fascinating news as this? Nowhere, trust me.
Criminal profilers say torturing small animals and insects is first act of future serial killers. Just a bit of foreshadowing that probably explains a lot about me now. And probably why I blog.
When we were little, my father taught us how to build small, light-weight paper airplanes. (I’ll skip the details of the airplane construction because I’d rather not contribute to the delinquency of other minors. Unlike my father. Hi Dad! He taught us all the great stuff like shooting, playing poker, and torturing flies by making them pilots.)
After capturing the fly, giving it a light freezing, it was then glued to the top of the airplane. Once the fly thawed out, we watched with glee as the unwitting pilot flew the tiny plane around the living room.
Sometimes the plane was too heavy and we’d have to start over with a new fly and a new plane.
I can’t count how many flies we put through this torture. But at the same time we used to feed the opossum that came to the back yard, and the ducks at the park.If only the flies had been ducks. Or maybe not.
I don’t make “fly” airplanes, or kill bugs anymore (most of the time). Now I blog. It keeps me off the streets. Most of the time.
The good news is with the coming Zombie Apocalypse the flies, and all bugs we’ve killed, will come back as Zombies.
They probably won’t look this good.
I hope they don’t hold a grudge.