I’ve been on a killing spree…and I have absolutely no remorse. My living room was transformed from a place of quiet repose to the scene of a massacre. Bodies lay discarded, empty husks on the terracotta tiles. Each tile resembled a giant Garibaldi biscuit.
Flies! I hate them, detest them, loathe them (refer to the Thesaurus and keep substituting words – they are all relevant). Unfortunately with campo living comes flies, and they are numerous. It is not only me that is irritated by them, the dogs are too. Jake, so placid, merely twitches to disturb them from his body; Charlie on the other hand is like a dog possessed. He snaps at the air, turns in circles to avoid them and pleads with those sweet brown eyes of his for me to obliterate them. I am only too happy to oblige.
I have decorated the pages of various magazines with fly innards and already smashed to smithereens one fly swat; I can see the current fly swat having an equally abbreviated life. Dead Fly – like a big full stop; the end. Only there is no end; there is a queue of the blighters outside the front door; a second wave of aerial onslaught. I even send up clouds of gas to choke them but the only creatures to be driven away are me and the dogs. It is a blitzkrieg.
So I am afraid I have no choice but to apply the most robust solution to these uninvited guests. I am going to continue with my murderous activities with no abatement.
May my swat remain sturdy and true!!
|Weapon of Mass Destruction (Campo Style)|