Here’s a real-life tale of “Lord of the Flies.”
I was just dozing off enroute to a blissful night of sleep when I heard strange noises coming from the kitchen. I assumed our youngest was futzing around, maybe prepping her lunch for the next day or making a bedtime snack. But the sounds continued, growing in intensity and volume. Thwap! Thwap! THWAP! What the what?
Annoyed but intrigued, I ventured downstairs to investigate. “Maddie? What’s going on?” As I rounded the corner, I spied my husband Doo in full Karate Kid mode, whirling about with a dish towel as he swatted at invisible forces.
“We’re under attack! There are black flies everywhere!” OK. Um. I wasn’t expecting that — although the door to the stinky garbage-can-in-situ garage had been ajar when I arrived home earlier that afternoon. Curious. “Do you need help?” I asked, amused but also slightly horrified. “No! I’ve almost got them all!” Praise be.
So, I went back upstairs and tried to ignore the madness. Doo finally came to bed, full of himself and his evident powers of extermination. Alas, his confidence was premature. For the next morning when I began making coffee, I spied one, then two, then six black flies swarming the fruit basket and microwave. It was like “Amityville Horror!” I bypassed the towel and immediately grabbed the Lysol, hoping to shoot them out of the air. I spent a solid 10 minutes chasing those filthy buggers before conceding defeat and leaving for school.
Luckily, my knight in business-casual armor managed to eventually eradicate the rest. A real-life “Lord of the Flies,” indeed.
Peace out.
