Things are a little tense in Park Place #10. We have an infestation. Yes, an infestfreakingstation of fruit flies. Because I am an English Language major, I did, in fact, look up the definition for infestation in the dictionary: a harassing or troublesome invasion. Do they harass me? Yes. Every time I’m in the shower and one begins to circle my head, I do in fact feel very harassed. Are they troublesome? Just ask my roommate, Jill, who had to throw out her new loaf of bread that was being eaten alive by flies.
Things are a little out of control over here.
We were desperate for help, advice, or perhaps a fumigation company to tent our apartment when Samantha’s sister gave us magical advice. Apparently, if you combine apple cider vinegar with dish soap, cover it with cling wrap with several holes poked through, and then you leave it out in the open, the flies will be attracted by the sweet smell of the apples and consequently die from the soap. Doesn’t that just put a little smile on your face?
Good news: it works. Samantha and I watched eagerly as the first victim fell prey to our deception. Sure enough, it went down into the liquid mixture and we watched with bated breath as it remained, never to rise again. In that moment, we also created our battle cry, our slogan for war.
“Die, fly. Cry and die.” That probably sounded really stupid when you read that to yourself but trying reading it again in a menacing Scottish brogue. Gave you chills, right?
With relief, we have found that after only one day, we have killed dozens of the menacing creatures. With a little luck, things will be a little more normal and a little less “The Fly”around here. (Don’t look up “The Fly”. The pictures are disgusting and just take my word for it; flies are bad, bad creatures.) Enjoy your last hours of life, unsuspecting flies. Your hours are numbered.