Thoughts Directed at the Fly in My Room

I can't believe you haven't died yet. How many days has it been? I've counted at least three. What am I giving you to live on??

Coffee mug. Whoops. Coffee left. Whoops. Can flies drink coffee?

Shouldn't that further DEHYDRATE it? Thereby contributing to an accelerated rate of DEATH?

Buzz. You're so clever right?? Buzzzzzzzz. What kind of message are you trying to send out? What are you even saying? YOUR LIFE HAS NO PURPOSE AT ALL. You just fly in erratic patterns all day long. You just ANNOY ME ALL. DAY. LONG.

My kingdom for a fly-swatter.

How did you even get in here? And why STAY in my room? There is a whole house attached. There is easy access to other exotic locales. This needs to be the focus room. This needs to be the homework room.

The fly totally just flew right over my head as I wrote that. Like, buzzed RIGHT in my ear. The damn fly is mocking me.

I am fed up with you, fly. I want you to leave this place. What is keeping you here? Really? There is no poop in my room. THERE IS NO POOP IN MY ROOM, FLY. THERE IS NOTHING THAT FLIES WOULD FIND DELECTABLE HERE.

Just diiiiiiiiieeeeeee.

What is it, specifically, that makes the fly-buzzing sound so infuriatingly annoying?

I remember having to buzz like a fly when reading children's books. Why would we give these hideous creatures any laudatory attention at all? "Buzzzzz goes the fly."

And once again, it flies RIGHT over my head.

Can you understand that I am so much bigger than you? That I am a human being and have things like a cell phone and a college degree? Can you please appreciate that I could, IF I really wanted to, roll up a newspaper or go out and buy a fly-swatter and END YOU?

Silence.

Yeah. That's right. I could END YOU. You and your miserable buzzing. So be afraid, fly. BE AFRAID.

Buzzing resumes once again.

And I move to the kitchen.