They’re ba-ack! BUGS. Big ones, little ones, creepy crawlers, B-52 Bombers. Of course, they’re back, it’s spring! And the one that kept ol’ Maybelle up wayyyyy past my bedtime was an evil house fly from hell. The kind with that high pitch whining sound that can turn you into a killer machine in a nano-second, don’tcha know.
Yep, that was ol’ Maybelle at two a.m. this morning.
Now I save some bugs. You know, put a jar over them and take them outside. But not a fly. It’s hard enough swatting them, let alone getting them into some container for permanent relocation, don’tcha know.
So there I was, with an electrified tennis racket fly swatter in hand, chasing the fly and its manic buzzing up on the bed, down again, flying into walls ’cause the room’s so small…swatting the air, missing it, swatting again, missing again. Then nothing. Silence. It took time out. It caught its wee breath. Hoped I would give up and get on with my life. But nooooo. There was no way I was going to turn out the light just to have to turn it on again when it would nose dive on my head!
Ol’ Maybelle was determined. It was me or IT! And finally…FINALLY … sizzle sizzle sparks… I GOT HIM!
NOW I could sleep. NOW I could relax and not worry that it was about to dive bomb me.
And that’s just what I’m about to do right now…sleep.
Nighty night.
Comedy: Maybelle's Fireside Stories 