Bug War, Part 2
So apparently the fruit flies in my kitchen thought they were, like, all *above* heeding my warnings about promised carnage. A full five days after my last written declaration, I would still wake up in the morning and walk into the kitchen only to find a small whirling cloud hovering in the general vicinity of the sink. Apparently my preemptive measures (taking out the trash every day, washing everything immediately and putting it away, running the drain and disposal through a baking soda cleanse every night) were ineffective. And my sporadically deployed shock n' awe tactics (ie, rampaging around my kitchen thwapping a dishtowel against random fly resting surfaces while screaming, "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!") were less shocking and awesome than hoped. *
Did you think that you were better than me, flies? Is that what it was?
Really. Look at you. You're small. With the brain the size of a...a...so small it's barely even a brain! Did you think that your miniscule bundle of nerve receptors-- a bundle that can do little more than mediate your unsophisticated desire for day old banana peels- could stand up to ME? I went to COLLEGE, fruit flies! I took a whole CLASS on how you work. You want psychological warfare? I'll GIVE YOU psychological warfare. I can get inside your mind-- see how you think. Read you. Like. A. Book.
And that's not all...no, that's not all.
Because, you see, I also have the internet. That's right. Direct access to an entire conceptual community drawn together soley by its common belief in eradicating fruit flies from kitchens for the general good of mankind. That's heavy shit! You didn't have a chance!
It didn't even take long. A second, maybe, to pull out a bottle from the recycling bag-- and another to put a little vinegar in the bottom and to rub some dish soap around the top.
And you crawled right into my trap, flies. All of you.
:::contemptuous headshake:::
pshtt...
you guys are so dumb...
*To everyone except the two little neighbor kids that live across the way.
So apparently the fruit flies in my kitchen thought they were, like, all *above* heeding my warnings about promised carnage. A full five days after my last written declaration, I would still wake up in the morning and walk into the kitchen only to find a small whirling cloud hovering in the general vicinity of the sink. Apparently my preemptive measures (taking out the trash every day, washing everything immediately and putting it away, running the drain and disposal through a baking soda cleanse every night) were ineffective. And my sporadically deployed shock n' awe tactics (ie, rampaging around my kitchen thwapping a dishtowel against random fly resting surfaces while screaming, "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!") were less shocking and awesome than hoped. *
Did you think that you were better than me, flies? Is that what it was?
Really. Look at you. You're small. With the brain the size of a...a...so small it's barely even a brain! Did you think that your miniscule bundle of nerve receptors-- a bundle that can do little more than mediate your unsophisticated desire for day old banana peels- could stand up to ME? I went to COLLEGE, fruit flies! I took a whole CLASS on how you work. You want psychological warfare? I'll GIVE YOU psychological warfare. I can get inside your mind-- see how you think. Read you. Like. A. Book.
And that's not all...no, that's not all.
Because, you see, I also have the internet. That's right. Direct access to an entire conceptual community drawn together soley by its common belief in eradicating fruit flies from kitchens for the general good of mankind. That's heavy shit! You didn't have a chance!
It didn't even take long. A second, maybe, to pull out a bottle from the recycling bag-- and another to put a little vinegar in the bottom and to rub some dish soap around the top.
And you crawled right into my trap, flies. All of you.
:::contemptuous headshake:::
pshtt...
you guys are so dumb...
*To everyone except the two little neighbor kids that live across the way.
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