Well, I have thankfully conquered my dragon and didn't even have to tilt windmills. For the past two or three days, there has been this really small fly that has caused me to slap my head more times than I have since I quit believing everything in the newspapers* was true. I was almost sure he was a superfly of some sort, like a performer for whatever vermin are likely sitting around my current rump roost.** He would fly back and forth, right in front of my eyes, then land on my nose just long enough for me to make a wave, then start a series of landings on my sweaty forehead and dart quickly away, causing the numerous head slaps. Following that foregoing ritual, it would then land on my hand, probably to chuckle about its great show of skill versus such a formidable foe as myself. This heroic little aeronaut's Waterloo turned out to be the non-variance of its routine. He died as a result of a well-timed swap with my trusty flyswatter. I'll give him his due, he was a crafty little fly.
*Especially that Weekly World News.***
**I am going to claim IP rights on that phrase until I find any predecessory use.****
***I still believe in the Bat Boy. He bit me on the leg once.
****Of course, if you want to do the research for me, feel free. I am such a procrastinator.
Posted by Tiger at July 22, 2005 07:14 PM | TrackBack