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2002-07-19 - 5:09 p.m.
Three things happened as the result of a kamikaze fly that was hell bent on putting me
in a mental institution. Number one, I went against my previous 20 or so years of not
killing anything intentionally and became responsible for the genocide of an entire country
of kamikaze flies in my house. Number two, I learned that I hate CD’s and I think
whoever invented them was a lazy bastard who is playing an evil joke on us suckers. And
number three, I should think twice before licking things.
Rewind to three weeks ago. I haven’t slept well in a month, I am hot and I am
exhausted. I get ready for bed early, at seven to be precise. I crawl into bed, sigh deeply,
read for a little while and then roll over onto my side, tucking my favorite pillow between
my arms and close my eyes letting the soft folds of sleep slowly drape around me. Just as
I enter that first delicious phase of sleep a fly lands on my cheek and I instantly jerk to full
awareness. I half heartedly bat him away and once again settle into sleep. This time he
lands on my nose. This time I bat with a little more force and then I again, settle into that
first phase of sleep. Now the fly takes to making dive landings onto various parts of my
exposed body. He’ll dive and land for a brief millisecond, over and over....Now I am
pissed. I jump from bed and chase this little black speck around the room, finally I shoosh
him out the door. I get back into bed and close my eyes, my body is tense now, I am just
waiting for him to come back and sure enough, he starts his dive landings again, this time
adding sound effects...I can hear him coming now, a loud and rapid BZZZZZZZZZZZ,
and then he lands just long enough to tickle my skin and make me aware of his presence.
This goes on for most of the night. The next day on my way home from work I bought fly
spray, marched into my house, informed all the flies that had taken up residence within my
walls that they had exactly fifteen minutes in which to vacate the premises before I killed
them. Some left, most went down with the ship. I slept well for the first time in a month.
Well, I slept well except for being plagued by nightmares because of my new found
murderous side.
Fast forward now to a few days ago. I walk in my house and find that an entire new
country of kamikaze flies have migrated and set up camp in my kitchen. I am mortified,
and again, I am exhausted. This time I immediately told them they had fifteen minutes to
vacate the premises, I didn’t mess around chasing them fly by fly, I wanted them gone and
I wanted them gone NOW. I used remaining can of fly spray this time, 3/4 a can. I really
let them have it. My cats and I waited outside until the gas chamber had cleared and the
fly carcasses lay unmoving throughout the kitchen. I cleaned it up...started to cry and
went to bed. No flies, just sleep. Lovely, lovely sleep.
Yesterday I was on my stair climber listening to my French lessons on CD. The CD
kept skipping and I was getting pissed. I would be happily going along with the Je suis’s
the je voudrais’s, the mercie’s and the C’est ici’s when the CD would skip and C’est ici
would come out C’est-est-est-est-est-est-estici-cicicicicicicicicicicicicicici...Finally I got
mad enough and just slammed the power button on the CD player and went to bed. No
flies, no CD’s, just sleep. Lovely, lovely sleep.
This morning on the way to work I was listening to a CD I had grabbed from the top
of my stereo on the way out the door. I have 1/2 hour drive to work and I relish every
minute of it. I love getting in my car at 5 am with a cup of coffee, no traffic, perfect
quiet...I watch the morning unfold as I drive and I like to have music to kind of accentuate
the beauty and peace of my morning drive. So I was happily cruising down dark country
roads this morning when the CD started skipping. At first I just skipped the song, but
when the next song started skipping too I screamed, “God damn mother fucking stupid ass
fucking CD’s, I swear (as if I had to reiterate that I was swearing),” totally breaking the
perfect peace my morning drive usually emulates. I grabbed the CD from the player
thinking to myself how much I hated CD’s, how stupid they were, how stupid WE were
for choosing them over tapes. Thinking how the ONLY thing CD’s were good for was
being able to skip around to songs quickly. Tapes were much more durable, and less
expensive. Tapes were SOOOO much easier. CD’s are fragile fucking expensive good
for nothing pieces of crap. I was screaming at the inventor of the CD, wondering why in
the hell he didn’t take it a step further and actually make the CD’s a little less vulnerable.
Tapes had a protective shell, why didn’t CD’s? I hate them, I just hadn’t realized HOW
much I hated them until that moment. So I’m thinking all this, thinking how much it
sucked that this CD was scratched and skipping. SO I did what I usually do when my CD
in my car is skipping. I lick it. Because sometimes it’s just that something is on the CD
that can be washed off and since my tongue is the only thing with which I can clean the
CD in my car, you will often find me licking CD’s while driving down the road and then
drying them off with my shirt and reinserting them in the stereo. So I open my mouth and
start licking the CD. I can taste a strange taste and I wrinkle my nose at it, but I keep
licking, I keep licking even after I realize there is a strange substance on the CD, a weird,
sticky like substance....and then....then I realize that I have just licked a CD that was
covered in fly spray and that at any moment I might die.
I’m still alive, but I’m still on edge about it, I keep waiting for my brain to convulse
and for my tongue to loll out of my mouth. While I am waiting though, I am washing
every single CD I have...the proper way.
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