World War III

I just had a 30-minute fight with a  fly. AN EFFING FLY!

At first I tried to ignore the repulsive insect but it seemed attracted to my head and would buzz around my hair, creeping me out and ruining my concentration. I jumped to the other end of the office and rolled a file, like a makeshift club. I thought I could catch it unaware and smash its brains for good so I could go back to finishing my dratted report. But the fly was smarter than I thought. It would dodge the “club”, hide beneath my desk and cabinets when I try to look for it. And, when I assume the coast is clear and return to my seat, it comes back, buzzing loudly with vengeance. It probably laughs in its little fly brain whenever I squeal and run off.

GRRRR.

Honestly, I don’t know what I did wrong. I took a bath and don’t smell like a garbage dump. Maybe it hates the midnight mimosa cologne I had on. Or maybe it’s a former enemy who died and reincarnated as a fly who vowed to spend the rest of its short life torturing me.

So, I discarded my useless paper club. I armed myself with an evil bottle of Steris coverage spray. (This is a hospital. I had to use whatever’s on hand.) …and patiently waited. As soon as I saw the fly peeking from under my chair, I jumped and started firing, spraying sterile cleaning solution everywhere. I managed to corner the fly and squirted enough Steris to drown a rat until it swayed and slowly fell to the carpet.

And then I squashed it with my boot. *pumps fist into the air*

Okay. The show is over. You can go back to work.

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