INVASION

(By the way, I made a deviant art account. it’s indigo-san.deviantart.com. EEHEEEHEEHEEHEEEEE)

 

Our house is full of flies.

Eugh.

I mean, it’s not literally full of flies, but there’s more flies in it than there were last year. And last year, we didn’t have any. Like most houses, you know.

So what have we been doing wrong? Have we been secretly hoarding slowly rotting foods in the corners of our house? Have we been cultivating fly farms in the basement?

What have we been doing wrong? No, nothing, nothing but opening the door every once in a while to get in, and out of the house. The usual.

But during that short span of time, a fly flew into our house.

And it was no ordinary fly. It was a fly with an evil plan on its mind. A fly with devious, ominous intentions. It was ready to take over. It was no longer the era of Human tyranny. It was time for the flies to rise to their true level of authority—at the top. It was time, to…

invade.

 

Actually, I’m not sure if that’s what they were thinking, (or if they think much at all), but a special fly did get into our house. A, whaddaya call it, a, motherfly?

 

You know, those annoying times when a fly somehow catches the perfect timing to fly into your food-filled home. Well, we were unlucky, because a fly with more flies within itself flew into our home.

And…

They are colonizing our home.

GRAHHHHH!

CLOSE THE DOORS WHEN YOU SLEEP. CLOSE THE DOORS WHEREVER YOU GO, SO THEY STAY IN THE LIVING ROOM. GET YOUR WEAPONS READY, MAGAZINES AND NEWSPAPERS AT HAND. STAND ON THE COUCH, SO YOU CAN SLAP A GREATER AREA OF FLIES (IF THEY COME BY) AND ALWAYS BE ALERT. YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN THEY MIGHT MAKE THEIR NEXT STRIKE.

They’re like, buzzing around in the kitchen.

There’s about three or four at a time, and our (my brother’s, my mother’s, and my) fear for flies is no help at all. While we’re flinching every time a fly buzzes near (my brother screams and roars and flails his arms wildly), my dad’s limping around, hopping around, trying to catch the endless flies that are popping up. For every fly we kill, another one pops up. I never knew flies could grow so quickly. D:

And we put the air-conditioner on sort of low, (I mean, not unreasonably low, but just low) so the flies are all fat and woozy and slow. They’re slumping around—if you can slump and fly at the same time, that is. Once in a while, a quick and speedy one pops up, but we know what to do with those--

GRAHHHH MAD FLY CHASE--

smack.

Ugh. I hate flies.