Life gives you little moments, that’s for sure. Tonight I was having dinner, and I spotted a fly zooming around the room. I’m disgusted by the idea of any bug going anywhere near what’s taken for nourishment, so I set off to kill the filthy bug. I could not find it, but afterwards I was sitting in the living room, minding my own business, when I felt something land on my chest.
I glanced down at my shirt front and I couldn’t see anything. I thought it might have been the fly, but it was nowhere to be found. Minutes later I felt something flutter inside my shirt. Now, throughout my life I have never felt strong negative reactions for little critters; in fact, I’ve always thought it was ridiculous to portray women in television or comics as unable to face small animals, or screaming banshees when they see a mouse, etc.
I knew that fly was inside my shirt, and I thought I should do something about it. Well, it couldn’t very well stay there, right?
Maybe if it had been a tiny man, the kind that measures half an inch, then I would have thought differently, but a fly?
I’m usually kind and gentle, and I think I would be a very nice giantess, and a tender owner of a small man if I were to ever face a tremendous rise in height, or gain the ability to shrink others, therefore I decided to release the fly into the wild. But wait, I thought, first let’s see…. And I looked down to see where it was. It was struggling against my left bra cup, near the seam that reaches up to the shoulder strap.
I had trapped it in place by stretching my shirt against it, and imagining it was a bug-sized little man-
Oh, my god.
Another bug flew inside my shirt just now!
As I was writing the above, a tiny ladybug-looking thing landed on my chest. :lol: There must be something in the air tonight. I don’t know why they are choosing that particular location, but this surely is unprecedented.
Anyway, so I was imagining the fly was a shrunken man, wriggling his little legs and arms, perhaps shrieking and straining his voice so I might hear his insignificant pleas… so I stared down my shirt for just a few seconds, and if I was a betting woman I’d wager there was a foolish smile plastered on my face.
I walked out the door and let it fly away. I brought in the mail and made sure it wasn’t around anymore before I opened my front door again. I went inside the house, and a few minutes later I felt a tiny flutter against my chest. I looked down and there was the fly again! It had flown off and while I was still outside it had decided to come back to me. It was love, you see.
So I killed it. I crushed it with toilet paper, and I flushed it down the toilet.
Moral of the story: Don’t love me, or I will kill you.
Well, if you are a fly.
No, that’s not it.
Moral of the story: I would be a gentle giantess, unless you try my patience. I would indeed be a kind pet owner, unless you return the gift of my lenience with arrogant presumption. Disobey me and I will crush you and flush you down the toilet.
No, that’s not it either. :roll:
There’s no moral to this story. I killed it because it was a fly.