"Fly" An Hour

A busy day ahead, and I was in speed-mode—rushing through getting dressed for work, deciding whether to skip breakfast, and in the midst of shuffling paraphernalia in my bag, when this extremely annoying—the father of all flies—really humongous, dirt-sucking, ominous creature—better known as the housefly—flew past me and onto the mesh of my window. The window has sliding panes, which allows either side to be completely open, or partially/completely closed; meaning, if the fly is trapped between the window panes, its gonna be asphyxiated.

Just like an aimless chopper, the adamant Mr. Fly kept banging its radars right into the mesh and out, presumably finding its way out (I guess it was about time that it realized it was trapped). So what does it do? It hovers some more about the killer window panes.

Mr. Fly had caused me no harm, save for the irritable buzzing noise. I had to do something! It came down to me and Mr. Fly. Having almost walked out on the fly, I returned to my room, paced stealthily toward the sliding panes, my eyes searching tirelessly for the black-winged speck. And there it was nosing about the mesh. With my gaze fixed on the creature, I needed to slam the panes such that Mr. Fly finds itself trapped.

No, my conscience did not prick me, in case you are wondering. I did exactly that. Bam! Slam! And damn! The deed was done. I killed a fly!

The epitaph of Mr. Fly reads: I emerged, I geared up, I flew, I hovered, I crashed, Got mashed . . . Died!

The lifespan of Mr. Fly lasted not more than 45 minutes.