There have been two flys, one big, one small, buzzing around my home for the past two days. Flys, while not particularly harmful, are annoying. These flys were annoying me.
Last night, the big one made a fatal mistake. As I was laying in bed, watching TV, he dared to fly within arms reach of me. With the quickness of a cougar I spun, snagged, and caught. He never saw me coming. I threw him into the toilet and flushed him. This morning, as I prepared my bowl of Cocoa Crispies, the small fly committed the same error as his larger brethren. He flew within my reach. BAM. I grabbed him out of the air in the first try and threw him as hard as I could into the sink. He was done. Before yesterday, I don't know that I've ever snatched a fly out of mid-air. Those little buggers are quick. Then, within a 12 hour span, I snagged two; both on the first try. Maybe I'm gaining some sort of super powers. I don't know where this quickness and deadly accuracy came from. Maybe I have other powers that I don't know about. I think tonight I'll get into a bar fight and see what happens. See what these other powers are. Whatever. I just know that if you're a fly and you're reading this, stay the hell away from my home. I'm deadly.
On a somewhat related note. When I was younger, one of my friends was barbecuing with his father on their deck. A songbird landed on the railing near the grill. As it took off to fly away, my friend's dad, in one swift motion, dropped his spatula, snagged the bird out of mid-air, snapped its neck, and threw it to the ground. He then grunted to my friend, "Clean up bird." What an amazing display of both quickness and brutality. They were Russian immigrants. I've always been awed by that display.