Picture this: me sitting on my desk, a glass of milk and a few sugar cubes lying in front of me while I do my work and suddenly I notice a fly. Yeah, yeah, that small insect (which people like me better know as Musca domestica) which you can find, well, everywhere. At first I thought, let it be, I should not “harm” it. But then it tried to sponge its way into one of my sugar cubes and kid, you know you’ve got a problem with me when ya mess with my food. So, what did I do? I picked up the good ol’ fly-swatter which miraculously was lying within arm’s reach (destiny?) and tried to kill it. Easy peasy, right? Apparently not, because I couldn’t kill or even hit it for some strange reason.
At last, I gave up. I went back to my work and prayed (imagine me doing that) that the fly go about its business too. Thankfully it did and I got into my rhythm. It must have been an hour or so when the fly came to my notice again. It wasn’t because it was going for my cubes again but because it was staring at me. Yes, staring hard. And to top it off, it rubbed its tiny, shitty hands together like it was going to destroy my whole life.
I can’t tell how angered I felt. Let me just say that this time, the swatter worked on the little bastard.