I f*cking hate fruit flies.
Can you feel the malice and abhorrence seeping between the letters in each word? Like seriously, there are few things (or people) that can genuinely annoy me the way that fruit flies can. Sometimes I feel as though they’re bred with the sole purpose of finding my eye, ear, nose, or mouth and barely escaping death just so they can watch me slap myself or stop me from enjoyin’ whatever it is that I’m doing. I could be in the middle of a power thronx gettin’ ready to see the heavens at one of my most sinful moments and then here comes a fruit fly right as I’m about to…yeah, you know. Anti-climatic to say the least.
Anyways, I take solace in knowing that every mission they go on will turn out to be a suicide mission. I can only imagine how many fruit fly concubines they were promised before they kissed their siblings and took off from home base. All stoic and sh*t until they crawl away and nobody can see the tears forming in their large stoner-red eyes. Bastards.
You’re probably wondering where this random rant is coming from. It’s a fair thing to ponder. It all goes back to this weekend… **insert wavy, harpy, dream sequence**
I had just left the gym and stopped at a fruit stand on the way home to pick up some strawberries, mangoes, and other stuff that could go into a smoothie. It was raining out and the fruit was kinda wet in a clean sorta way, so I figured I wouldn’t have any issues with traveling pests. I get home and set the fruit down. I even dry off what I can to make sure the freshness isn’t affected. There were no dishes in the sink or anything exposed that could support winged or antennae’d life, so I thought I was safe leaving the fruit on my kitchen cart for a few hours until it was time to whip work in the blender.
After about it an hour, I decided to make something to eat. And as soon as I sat down, the lil muddafugga was right on schedule. I go to take a bite out of my sandwich and it flies into my ear. I instinctively slap at the right side of my face causing my earring to slightly pierce my skin. I put my sandwich down, but not before romaine lettuce and tomato hit the floor. I’m annoyed. I look for the miniature foe and it’s no where to be found. I go to send a message on gchat about my disdain for fruit flies and it flies onto my screen. This P.O.S. wanted me to hit my computer. I gritted my teeth and withstood the temptation. It made figure 8′s near my tv as if to mock me, so I tried to bomblaclap it. I failed.
I went to the bathroom to do nature’s work and it had the audacity to fly in the open door and head straight for my nose. How disrespect can a creature be? Given my vulnerability at that moment, I could do little more than exhale it away and start waving my hands to keep it at a distance. It flew out and disappeared. I cautiously watched for it the rest of the night and it didn’t show itself. I assumed it had fatigued and settled in the kitchen somewhere and would fly out of an oatmeal packet in the morning as soon as I went to make breakfast. So I shut off the lights, turned on the fan in my room, made my bed look comfy (pushed all the sh*t on it to one side) and laid down to read a few pages out of a book that shall not be named.
The f*cker flew between my face and the book. At this point, steam was shooting forth from my ears. “You are not gonna f*ck up my relaxation and sleep,” I uttered to a creature with no ears that only felt vibration. I slammed my bedroom and closet doors and turned off the fan. It was war. And like every war before it, the result was the same. The fruit fly got its concubines and I got a good night’s rest. I gotta tell you though. There’s something weird about sleeping on a pillow without a pillowcase.
Yep. I just wrote a whole post about a damn fruit fly,