Fly In The Coop

Stupid Fly has been living in my house for almost a month. Even when I removed more screens from my windows so Chicky could bring his own budgie ass home; Stupid Fly never left. Stupid Fly however, did welcome the company of his own I think, as a few other Flying Things stopped in for a visit then. Chicky never did make his way back home.
For the most part, I ignored Stupid Fly. I saw him seldom and only remarking to Stupid Fly that obviously drinking from the toilet was making him more retarded made The Voice heckle me.
So, I pretty much pretended Stupid Fly did not exist.
Except that one time I opened up the Hallway Closet and he came bobbling out. He looked no real worse for the wear, mind you. He still had a glazed look to him as he flew down the Hallway. He almost bumped into the walls five times. That was his average.
I said "Stupid Fly, I am sorry."
The Hallway Closet had not been opened in three days.

Stupid Fly was pretty quiet as far as Flying Things go. He did not go around, showing off his buzzer, flying into your face, making dares with other Flying Things as to which object would try to swat them.
You know, all Stupid Fly pretty much did was bobble along right on pass you. Every once in awhile. I did not miss him when he was in the closet because he really was just that quiet. And unobtrusive.
Until last week.
Stupid Fly landed on top of my computer monitor.

So, I ignored Stupid Fly for the first night. For the most part.
Once in awhile, I would look up and say "Oh. You're still here, are you, Stupid?"
I am sure he was too stunned I had spoken to him to even reply.

On the second night, I was a little creeped out because I noticed every time I looked at Stupid Fly, he was looking at me. I think.
And since he was quiet, so was I.

On the third night, I realized Stupid Fly was not going anywhere. So, I looked at him.
"Got any request as far as music goes?" I asked.
Stupid Fly might have answered if given the chance.
Why don't you ever ask me that? demanded The Voice.
I sighed and decided to just ignore them both for the night.

On the fourth night, I looked up at Stupid Fly, sitting there, immobile. His fourth night of staring at me.
"You are getting fat sitting there, Stupid," I said to him. I put a piece of popcorn beside him and I am sure his mouth was too full and he would have choked, had he answered me.

On the fifth night, I was sitting here, typing away. When AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Flying Thing!!!
In my face!
BUZZING!
So, I squealed like a girl. Then I moved around swatting, all girly. Because really.
I just wanted the Flying Thing away from me. If I swatted enough, it might go on its own without me having to...touch it.
And then the buzzing stopped and I looked up just in time to see Stupid Fly landing back in his usual spot.
I just kept looking at him. But I said nothing.
Stupid Fly was getting to be a little on the scary side and I did not want to make him mad.

On the sixth night, I noticed Stupid Fly and his getting rounder by the minute body and said, "Sucks when you eat next to nothing and still get fat, eh?"
So, Stupid Fly flew in my face and I swatted. Then he went back to the monitor.
But I am telling you, Stupid Fly had went beserk!
He kept flying at me!!!
Sometimes he would land in my hair and walk around, before I could swat him away.
And it just kept happening.
Attack!
Swat!
The monitor was home base in this game.
In between attacks he would stare at me and sometimes I would stare back at his poor fat belly.
A few times I let him attack and gave him a second before I swatted.
He seemed to like my hair.
So, finally I just stopped swatting.
Stupid Fly walked around for a bit the next time he landed in my hair. Then he flew home.
Then he flew back to my head and when I did not swat again, he decided to stay.
"How do you spell exasperation?" I asked him once. When he did not answer, I just assumed he was having a nap.
And maybe he was, but it would be hard knowing it. He bumbled over to the monitor in his usual fashion when I stood up to go to bed. I had forgot he was even on my head.
"Good Night," I said to Stupid Fly, for the first time.
He did not answer. I just assumed he had not heard me. The Voice was busy telling me what was on TV at three in the morning.

This morning Stupid Fly was still sleeping upon my monitor. With his little black feet in the air on his back.
I was amazed that Stupid Fly understood the concept of Sleep-In Sundays to even say anything to him.
So, I went to Wal-Mart and then I came home.
To a still lazy, still sleeping Stupid Fly. He had not moved position at all!
"Hey, pal," I said to him. "You have been sitting there for a week now. But really. Feet up in the air? Do you not think you are over-stepping the boundaries of 'guest in my house' a little bit too much here?"
Stupid Fly kept right on sleeping. And I wanted to flick him. So, I told him I was going to.
Idiot, said The Voice. The fly is dead.
Yes and it is still a Flying Thing, I replied as I shook my head. And I still do not want to touch it.