Years ago I visited the Rosicrucian Museum in San Jose, California where they believe in coming back to life after you die. Myself, I never really believed it until I came face to face with America’s greatest menace, the fruit fly.
My mistake was accepting some seemingly harmless house plants from a friend who claimed these plants just needed some more sunlight. But these plants had fruit flies. Do you have any idea how dangerous fruit flies are, America?
On first blush, fruit flies are really, really cute. They’re maybe 3 millimeters in length. So one little bitty fruit fly may not seem like a big deal – until you snap out of your “fruit fly romance trance“.
I have now killed hundreds of them; maybe more. And, America, there is no end in sight.
After you’ve tried every exterminator trick known to man on these lilliputian hovercraft, your nerves are at ”DefCon IV“. That’s one step below Nuclear War.
This is why I now believe in reincarnation. No insect, no animal, no human, no extraterrestrial galactic being could survive such ruthless annhilation unless – unless – the insects we kill today rise from the dead at night to fly around the next day. I am now a believer in Life After Death.
Yesterday’s journal entry — “Today I killed 5 of these flying beasts. A good day’s work in Terminator-Land. But as I turned to my dictionary just now to look up the proper spelling of “annhilation” for tomorrow’s blog, a fruit fly buzzed the pages as if to taunt me and then disappeared. For a moment, I thought I heard laughter.”
Yes, America, we must act now! But there seems no hope, at least using conventional methods. So, I am launching a new counteroffensive, my own guerilla warfare. My plan is to befriend them and then cleverly eradicate them.
Step one. Leave ripe oranges and spoiling bananas lying around the kitchen as bait.
Step two. Dose the fruit with sweet smelling insecticide. The unsuspecting, albeit cute, fruit flies will never know what hit them.
A few hours later, they’ll fly home to their tiny fruit fly villages with their cute little wood fires over which they’ll warm their tiny little hands. “Hi, honey. Look at the beautiful fruit that nice man left out for us. I brought some home for you and the kids” they’ll say.
Haven’t quite figured out that Life After Death. My motto is Death First. Then we worry about the coming-back-to-life thing.
Come to think of it, I never checked the guides at that Rosicrucian Museum for wings. Hmmmm.
