Flies are cunning.
Flies are bold.
Flies are crafty.
Flies are dirty.
They are evil, little beasts.
They feast on feces.
Then they decide to sit on your bologna and cheese sandwich.
It ends up being...
A sandwich ruined by disease.
You wave the damned fly off.
I just returns to sit on your vegetables.
This is the last straw!
You have to get out of your easy chair.
You hunt for the "freaking" newspaper.
You roll it up...not too big...not too small.
You've done this a million times before.
It's the perfect weapon for fly-swatting.
You are a professional fly murderer.
You are a fly serial killer.
You come back to the scene of the crime.
You look at your plate of food and wait.
This fly is cunning, he doesn't return.
He knows you are there.
He's watching you and laughing at you,
With a million little eyes!
He's a sly bastard...that dirty fly!
So you go back to eating your sandwich.
You notice he is on the inside...
Of your wife's new, hundred-dollar lampshade.
He is taunting you.
He is daring you.
Then he disappears once again.
You forget about him.
At nine-in-the-evening, he starts dive-bombing your wife.
You hunt all over the house for the rolled up newspaper.
You chase him...It's a game of survival for him now.
He knows his number is up!
Pretty soon...SPLAT!...You've got him!
The mess is all over,
the screen of your five-thousand-dollar, flat screen TV.
I hate flies.