Attack of the flies
by Christy Sillman
We’ve been invaded. The Sillman household is under attack – by flies. It started with just a couple of flies here and there, but now we’re under full-blown attack. I personally have a theory that we’ve encountered immortal flies. Every time you kill one, you turn around and there it is again. Now it seems like the immortal flies are reproducing.
At first it was annoyingly funny and I would label each fly with a personality type:
~ There’s the speed racer who flies around the kitchen at an unbelievable pace that your eyes can barely keep up with it.
~ Then there are the low-fliers who skim the ground like bottom feeders in a fish tank.
~ The morbidly obese flies that are so plump they can barely fly around, but they always seem to land directly on your freshly cooked meal.
The saddest had to be the suicidal fly that landed directly on the fly swatter and just waited for us to flip it like a pancake.
But the worst, the most terrifying fly of them all, was the ear bomber.
Up until I had my unfortunate encounter with the ear bomber, all the flies were contained to the kitchen and living room. We were safe upstairs and tucked back in our bedrooms. But the ear bomber was a determined little sucker, and he made quite the trek in search of me.
I was just lying in bed, playing some Angry Birds on my cell phone while my husband drifted off to sleep. I heard him flying around, but shook it off thinking that he would descend back to the kitchen in search of food, because that’s what flies search for, right???
Next thing I know, the buzz was getting louder, and in a split second it enveloped all my senses as I put sound and touch together to realize that this fly was INSIDE of my ear!
It must have looked like I was on fire, or doing a dance, because I instantly started flailing all over the bed, twisting in the sheets, trying to move my head in the opposite direction of the fly. What I remember most is the sound of my screaming pleas. Like the ear bomber fly would suddenly “hear” me, understand English, and oblige my requests to “GET OUT!”
My husband Steve was half asleep, very confused and calmly said to me “Honey, what’s wrong?”
If I could have had the wherewithal, I would have clobbered him in the nose for his lack of urgency.
Something I did worked because the ear bomber suddenly retreated out of my ear. I, however, was overcome with emotion. There’s nothing like a fly in your ear to release a flood of held in tears. I was a hot mess.
Since this encounter I’ve been sleeping with my hair tucked ever so neatly OVER my ears. I know it won’t keep me totally safe, but it makes me feel better.
A few days and many more flies later, I was overcome with vertigo, nausea, and at one point lost my hearing in that ear. I had horrible images that the ear bomber had left a batch of fly eggs in my ear and now my brain was being overrun by maggots.
I’ve totally got maggot brain ju-ju.
It’s just the sort of way I’d go down – “It wasn’t her congenital heart disease that brought on her demise but a common house fly in her ear.” The Discovery Health Channel could have a field day with my story. I bet it’s happened. I would Google it, but then I’d never sleep again.
When I awoke to find approximately 50 flies downstairs, I called my husband at work, said I was leaving the house with the baby and wouldn’t be returning until the house was fly-free. We’ve yet to find a source or point of entry into the house for the flies, and I’ve since moved back in. They’re slowly dwindling down, and our house is covered in fly traps.
You know it’s bad when your 19-month-old son runs around with a fly swatter hitting imaginary flies screaming, “YEAH!”
Until fly season draws to a close, and our house returns to the pest-free sanctuary it once was, I’m sleeping with one eye open and a fly swatter nearby. If that doesn’t work, I’m buying a shotgun. Cause if another fly even comes close to going into any of my orifices, it will be full on WAR!