oh the horror

I am sorry I just have to quickly comment on one aspect of pain that can drive the Pope to commit homicide...the freaking flies here in Spain!

The common house fly here is Spain is a different breed than that of the American house fly. Despite their tiny little accents (el buzzzzzzzo), they look and act just like the american housefly, but they are mutations above those in Virginia. They fly around slowly, almost lazily, taunting you. They fly so slow you can see them actually flicking you off with thier middle mandibles. Don´t don´t make much of a sound to be quite honest. but when they land on you, they seem to tap dance while they are there. What i mean is sometimes a fly can land on your bare skin and you never know it. These bad boys can leave a bruise.

And since they fly around so slowly, your naked eye can focus on them and tell whether it is a boy or a girl. You swing at them with the false notion you can actually hit one of them. But it´s something out of the matrix I swear. You swing and you swing and your arm goes into instant slow motion as they fly rings around you. I see how the giant got caught in Gulliver´s Travels.

When you do hit them, make sure you have a sweatband and bowler´s wrist brace on. You might kill one after 3 tries. At that point I think they are laughing so hard at you that they drop their guard and allow themselves to be hit. The first swing was dead on, yet he flew around my head and I heard the faintests of laughs as he buzzed by my ear. Then the second try was with more effort and frustration. You know the type of swing where you rush it, when you knew you should have had it the first swing, but you miss, and as your brain realizes as you start your downward swing onto the location of where you thought the fly was resting in plain site, your brain now realizes the fly has flown away but it´s too late to stop the swing and that is a bit of energy you will not ever get back as now you have a hernia from the thrusting and possibly a dislocated shoulder. Just then your brain also realizes that that vision in your sight is the fly coming for you, so you think you have the charm and reflexes of a ninja warrior and try to divert your swing, which still has not made it to the first location, and use the inertia spent before to swing in an upward motion as you have your heat sinking missles locked on this newly acquired target. Well instead, if only someone was filming, you would truly see yourself for the ridiculous fool you are as you swing and swipe in circular motions about your head and neck trying to catch a fly only to realize that you are out of breath and dizzy from the experience.

So let´s give up and walk away...yea right. You spend all day, not allowing your windows to open in case he flies out (because darnit, you are going to avenge your "home videos funniest" moment, and you are too tired to deal with any of his other buddies looking for a laugh at your expense. So you spend all day creeping around the house. making sure there is always something in reach suitable for smacking the crap out of that fly. By midday you have even named the fly something like Jose...to make it more personal, all the while not realizing you have passed over that lost remote you could not find 6 months ago. But you are too focused on your mission to realize. You won´t leave the house nor invite anyone else over to save yourself from the embarrassment and pain. And just when you have given up and realized you lost a day of your life to this obsession...there he is. sitting pretty. resting comfortably. You wonder to yourself, had he been there for the past 13 hours and you just overlooked him.

Oh no, you let your guard down and you can find anything suitable to smack the living daylights out of it. You sweat and panic. It´s like high noon and you are facing the fastest gunner in the west without your gun. You search and search, and looking back at that perfect spot this housefly had taken up residency. Finally you see a magazine, you have yet to read but hey, when a sniper gets a perfect shot, they don´t pass it up. You slowly march back to your original position. THERE HE IS!!! You are so giddy with excitement you can hardly contain yourself. Should you get closer or strike. One will never know until you strike like the cobra you are. And as soon as it begins...it ends.

As the dust settles from your magnificent blow to the dusty table you refused to clean while you sat home all day salivating over the chance to kill this fly, you honor your slain foe as only you see fit to a worthy adversary:with full honors and a 21 gun slaute...well 21 cans of soda is all you have so ...so be it...

As you bury his carcass into the trashcan, you feel a familiar whisp of air and barely hear the audible laughters of his cousin who just entered your home thru the window you opened to rejoice in a well deserved smoke!