The Fifth Column

Over the past few weeks an insidious new menace has slowly advanced upon us. It has crossed our borders, invaded our homes, and watched us as we slept at night. It is ever increasing in number, ever resolute in purpose, ever purposeless in its existence. It is: tiny, little damn flies.

Stowaways on my houseplants, the first tiny flies immigrated into my home unknowningly and inconspicuously. Establishing themselves in the terracotta pots they were tolerated even welcomed at first, often working the jobs I myself did not want to work. Within days, however, their numbers increased and they were often to be founding loatering around the windowsills or flying about drunkenly with no apparent goal or purpose in mind. Simple police measures were initiated and a few flies were made examples of in the hopes that the rest would leave, but this would only be the beginning.

Emboldened by their numbers and little, tiny fly brains they grew more aggressive. Flying about at all hours of day and often seemingly intentionally flying directly into my face and eyes whenever it pleased them, the crackdown continued and negotiations were attempted. Deadlocked after the first few promising rounds, the dialogue ended over the flies refusal to concede measured autonomy and the right to fly up my nose whenever it pleased them. It was then that the decision was made for a more forceful response.

Over the next few days fly squashing picked up dramatically both in absolute numbers and in intensity. Now flies were no longer smashed only when behaving egregiously, but whenever found and in all instances. Periodic fly swatting campaigns were undertaken in the hoping of reducing their numbers. As their populations only increased, however, reproducing like some sort of crazy reproducing thing, little bowls of water and sugar were laid out at their favorite spots as traps which would eventually take the lives of dozens if not hundreds of the annoying little buggers. The conflict, now arguably a smoldering low level war, only continued.

It is now the present day. With fly corpses all over the friggin' place, and hundreds more in my vacuum cleaner, the campaign continues still. In an escalation of hostilities I have since purchased an insecticide spray with which I have doused the tiny flies' homes and hopefully their tiny fly playgrounds and schools. My skill in slapping the bejeezus out of them mid air has improved remarkably though there is, as of yet, no sign that their numbers are declining. If current military actions fail I may have to resort to napalm or a box of tiny frogs. There can unfortunately be no compromise. The tiny flies follow an ultraconservative, fundamentalist ideology. To them flying into my ear at night fully knowing their impending disintegration amongst my fingertips is an act of holy sacrifice where in heaven they will be accordingly rewarded, presumably with the chance to fly into other peoples' ears at night. There can be no peace until there are no flies. There is no other way; there can be no other way. Please by war bonds to aid us in this effort.

The current fly alert levels is burgundy. Be suspicious of things!