Sunday, August 17, 2008
The flies attack me; I will be watching tv, or reading a book, or lounging talking to friends, or whatever else it is I do. They Land on my legs, my eyes, my elbows, my neck, my nose, my lips, my feet, my hands, etc. Finally I get frustrated enough to grab a fly swatter. As soon as I sit down with the fly swatter there are no more flies to kill. They have all fled. Now you my say: "you should be happy all the flies left when you grabbed the swatter. You have struck fear into their hearts. Your power and cunning with the swatter has brought you victory." But this is not how I feel. I want to punish the flies, to kill them for the small annoyance they have caused me. I want the satisfaction of seeing them smushed on the coffee table. I know that when they flee from me like the philistine army fleeing from David after he lopped off Goliath's head, they have left only to go annoy someone else, to poop and vomit all over the house. I want to terminate them.
I am sensing a general trend in topics on my blog.