Laura on Life
Ah, daylight. Now I can get around without flying into a wall. The night before, I flew into a bedroom because that was the only light to be found. Apparently, those little humans need a night-light on in their bedroom so that they won't run into...
Ah, daylight. Now I can get around without flying into a wall. The night before, I flew into a bedroom because that was the only light to be found. Apparently, those little humans need a night-light on in their bedroom so that they won't run into walls either. It is interesting to me, though, that they never wake up at night unless the light is off. So, although my theory makes sense, humans don't.
Last night, however, was a different story. They didn't get any sleep at all. I don't know what that would have to do with me, but apparently, they blamed their insomnia on me...a poor little house fly.
For being nighttime, a time when humans, large and small, are supposedly dormant, there certainly was a lot of activity. When the lights started going off, I immediately flew toward the last light standing: The one in the small human's bedroom. They're small, and therefore generally safe, so I prepared to spend the night in that room.
The first order of business was to find something to eat. We houseflies are not too picky about what we eat. Consider our ignominious beginnings. Still, a bedroom is not the easiest place to find food. If they are going to leave a light on, why couldn't it be in the kitchen?
After flying around the room a few times I spied a flash of red that could possibly be cherry Kool-Aid. Cherry Kool-Aid is one of my favorite foods. Actually anything with sugar in it is one of my favorite foods. Well, just about anything is one of my favorite foods. But today it was cherry Kool-Aid.
It was tucked into a crease in the small human's face, but I knew I could get it with my super house fly ability for stealth and speed. I sat on the wall assessing the situation with my many eyes and finally, came up with a plan: I'm just going to fly down there and get it. OK, it wasn't a brilliant plan, but house flies aren't known for their brains. Stealth and speed; that's all we got.
I took one reconnaissance flight and realized two things: 1. Yes, it was definitely cherry Kool-Aid; and 2. Little humans don't like buzzing near their ears when they are sleeping. She flinched just as I was about to land. That delectable glob of heaven was still nestled in that face, though, and I was determined to get it. I tried to quiet my buzzing on the next pass, but apparently stealth is an ability that house flies still need some work on. I wish they would tell us this kind of pertinent information before we leave the larva stage.
This time the little human's eyes opened, but she didn't move. "OK, OK, I can do this", I thought. Another stealthy approach and ... Whoa! A little hand I barely detected came up and ruined my flight path! The air currents she conjured up with her spastic motions were wicked! Gotta watch out for that!
Suddenly, an unearthly shriek came screaming out of the small human's wide open eating orifice. The crease in her face was no longer there and I could see...Yes! A feast! I didn't care what it took, I was going in!
Two hands came flying up this time and the horrendous screeching brought two large humans into the room. All three of them picked up some flat, hard object and started flailing at me with murderous intentions. Tiny human-shaped replicas and pastel colored-ponies were flying off shelves. Papers were floating hither and yon. One of the large humans hit the other in the head with the flat, hard thing. The small human was jumping up and down on the bed in sheer terror. In the background was the ear-piercing scream from the little human and the annoyed yelling from the one who got hit in the head. It was pandemonium! No matter where I flew, something was flying at me. However, being one of the best in my Extreme Flying For House Flies class, I out-maneuvered all of them!
Finally, the large humans took the small human and, incidentally, my dinner, out of the lighted room and I was left to starve. Humans are heartless.
But... it's daylight now...
You can reach Laura Snyder at firstname.lastname@example.org Or visit her Web site www.lauraonlife.com for more columns and information about her new book.