A Nightmare on Buzz Street

It has happened.

A maddening new setback in my recovery…

Something that I had NOT considered when I envisioned every possible nightmare scenario which may befall me while I am home alone during the day.

Late this morning, the kid had a basketball game, the first game of his season that I will have to miss. As such, he and the wife are out of the house for hours, leaving me alone with the throw-rug pooping felines.

No Problem.

I’ll stay here on the bed like a good boy and nothing could go wrong.

Or so I thought….

I was laying here, watching Season 2 of “The Big Bang Theory” on DVD, minding my own business, when it happened…

The new nightmare I had not envisioned….

yep, I glanced down at my boot towering above the foot of the bed and saw “IT” perched atop the boot…

Yep, you guessed it.

A fly.

On my boot.

Buzzing at me with a mocking buzz of contempt.

By the looks of it, I was dealing with an adolescent Bolivian Free-Range Fruit Fly…

Which, as we all know, are crafty little bastards…

Time for another OCD reveal…

I cannot stand being in the same room, house, or even planet, as a fly. I will corner a fly into a room and will then lock myself and said fly into the room, where we will remain for hours if needed, until I have rendered said fly DEAD. I have been known to shatter furniture, windows, pictures, collectibles, and anything else that gets in my way as I use all my might and any weapons at hand, to squash the HELL out of the pesky fly. Two creatures may enter the room, but only one ever leaves, unsquashed, and that victor is always ME!

And now, here I got a crafty Bolivian FR Fruit Bastard buzzing from atop my boot!!

Gah!!!

I do the first logical step and scream hysterically. The fly, who obviously knows little or no English, just mocks me and stays perched atop the boot.

I go to Plan B and yell at the little bugger in Spanish. Again, I get no response. This is obviously a mentally-challenged fly that I am dealing with.

I use every ounce of my strength to try to get those newly-attached tendons to stretch just enough, without tearing loose from their frail attachments to bone, so that I move the boot slightly.

With a great deal of pain, the boot slowly starts rocking back and forth….with the happy little fly still clinging to it’s perch.

Gah!!!

I grab one of my throw blankets. I hold part of it in one hand while I wad the remainder of the blanket in the other hand. I then toss the wadded blanket through the air towards the boot, keeping hold of the one end in my other hand. The blanket soars through the air and unfurls perfectly, neatly covering my entire lower body, including the boot. If there is one thing I have mastered during my prison sentence on the bed, it’s how to properly cover myself.

I wait a few minutes. The fly is nowhere to be seen. Maybe I killed the little bastard when the blanket hit him….

I should be so lucky.

I slowly pull the blanket off of my feet….only to reveal the fly still perched on my boot!

Gah!!!!

Out of frustration, I grab my satellite remote and launch it at my boot, missing it by a mile, causing the remote to disappear off into the endless abyss that makes up “Stuff the Idiot can’t reach with his grabber”-land at the end of the bed.

Gah!!!!!!!!!

I hurriedly look around the room. My only weapons are what I can reach with my trusty grabber. Convinced that I would most likely render myself dead or unconscious when left alone, has caused the wife to sterilize the room of most useful weapons.

Would it kill these people to leave the poor bedbound idiot with a common fly swatter before they leave me alone?

Nooooo…… they can’t seem to forget the little fly swatter incident of 2004 in which our home’s heating system got shorted out, causing us thousands of dollars in repairs, all because of an ingenious plan I had devised while battling a fly in our previous home.

I glance over at my wife’s nearby dressing table. How come women get dressing tables? See that little patch of bare floor in amidst all the dirty clothes? That’s my dressing table…… Just sayin….. anyway…… I spy a can of hair spray. Maybe I can spray the bugger to death.
Ooohhhhhh Looooooookkk……

Matches!

She left matches that she uses to light the candles surrounding her bathtub.

Matches AND hairspray!!

I have the ingredients for an awesome fly-killing homemade FLAME THROWER!!!

Sometimes the endless bounds of my brilliant genius amazes even me……

It took me about 5 minutes to carefully manipulate the grabber into position to grab the hair spray and the matches. Of course, even with all the squirming around and grunting, the little sadistic fly still stayed perched on my boot, buzzingly mocking me.

It was GO TIME!!

I carefully lit a match…

Lifted the hairspray can up….aimed the nozzle directly towards my towering boot…

Let out my patented war cry… “CRY HAVOC AND LET LOOSE THE DOGS OF WAR!!!”

And then launched a flaming stream of fiery hair spray….at my recently surgically-repaired foot.

Which, as the flame was hurtling through the air towards my foot, I quickly realized might NOT have been the smartest idea I have had this week…

This one is gonna be hard to explain to the wife…

and the Fire Department…

and the Paramedics…

and the Surgeon…

Sigh

I hate flies.