The War on Flies

Dave leads an average life. He is around 30, and lives alone in a modest one bedroom home. He has all the makings of a cozy place to call his own with one exception: the occasional buzzing that he hears, followed by a drifting black speck that enters his periphery. It is a fly. The flies that dot Dave’s home are not great in number, but they are greatly annoying. So Dave goes, ensuring that windows are closed, trash is well kept, there is no overly ripe fruit, and everything is clean.

But the listing, buzzing black specks continue. Dave is a patient man of relatively few hobbies, aside from building wood matchstick models to make an income and going out occasionally, but he has hit his limit.

One morning, armed with his phone and his bank account, Dave places an order from Walmart for delivery that day. Two fly swatters, a pack of three fruit fly traps, Two packs of five fly strips, and… Butter popcorn and two bags of Nacho Cheese Doritos.

The knock comes on his door at about 3:30pm, with the delivery person handing Dave the two bags within which lie the instruments to fly armageddon.

Dave methodically places the fruit fly traps around the kitchen and foyer. One pack of fly strips is split between the bathroom, bedroom, and kitchen. As for the other, Dave has special plan for them. Climbing on a stool, One is placed on the pull chain on the living room fan. The other four are placed on each of the fan blades. This is where Dave does his work after all, so there is no mercy.

Upon finishing these tasks, Dave goes to the kitchen to pour a nice draft, grab the fly swatters and some Doritos, and return to his chair in the living room. He is done with work for the day, so the recreation can begin. The fan is turned on low, with fly strips whipping around, and Dave waits.

One, two, three flies fall victim near immediately. Dave chuckles as he munches on his snack. A fly deigns to land near Dave’s chair. “Not on my watch!” yells Dave triumphantly as the thwack of his fly swatter flattens the little bugger. The night wears on, and several more flies fall to Dave’s nuclear revenge.

In the morning, Dave goes to inspect his handiwork. Six were taken with the fly-killer fan, 4 in the kitchen, and a few more in other areas of the house. Dave takes down some of the fly strips, including those on the fan, to avoid them meeting his face. Some are left hanging in the kitchen, just to be safe. Satisfied, Dave picks up a tin of coffee for the morning, only to find an old clementine rolling out, partially spotted with age. “Well, there’s my problem.” Dave mutters as the clementine flies out the window.

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