I don’t know what more I can say than the title has already said. There is a fly in our house, one fly. It has been in our house for about a week now. I would like to be able to give a more specific time period but the days have all run together in some sort of marathon for the damned. It is thoroughly maddening to have a spot of black horror fly across my vision every few minutes and then disappear. Both Annie and I have desperately sought for a way to rid ourselves of this flying death that pursues us. At any given point in the day either Annie or myself will suddenly explode into bouts of epileptic arm waving. Startled by these insane antics the other will ask what ails him or her and will quickly realize that it is that cursed orbiting of the devil fly. It is even worse when it wreaks havoc upon our ears. The constant buzzing has accompanied my every waking moment leaving blunt-trauma induced comas as the only reprieve from the madness. How the fly entered our apartment is still a mystery known only in the vilest circles of Hell. If this were the extent of the story it would not be one of such woe, but there is more. This fly is more than a fly. It would be simple enough to kill it except…..IT NEVER LANDS!! The Fly is constantly airborne as if fueled by our hate for it. As a last resort Annie and I have thrown out all of our food hoping that with nothing to eat the fly will soon starve. But seriously, this fly is driving us insane.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The two of you who read this blog may be wondering what happened at The Duck Pond. I know it was cruel of me to leave such tales unanswered but I suppose it happened. When last we met I had begun throwing balls of wadded up bread at ducks. As I was doing this I began to hear a distinct whistling sound. It was a similar sound yet foreign at the same time. The best way I know to describe the eerie vibrations resonating in my ear is to say that it sounded almost exactly like a half cat half parrot made up entirely of whistles flying past my ear. Or better yet it sounded like a whistle screaming past my ear. As I looked slightly to my left to see what the sound was I noticed a ball of bread flying past me at a speed nearing light. It is an obvious question for you to ask how I was able to see an object zooming at the speed of light. It is a valid question. Through the low atmosphere the bread flew, ripping apart atoms like a baseball through a bird. The life expectancy of the bread ball’s flight was soon seen to be very short indeed as it came to a sudden halt with a loud thud.
Eagerly I awaited the wonderfully pleasing sound of a duck squawking with indignity and taking flight from the insane balls of bread raining upon it with such fury. It was not the sound of a duck I next heard, but it was little Charlie’s sound of sudden shock and pain as he realized that a surprisingly fast moving waded-up piece of bread crashed into his thigh. In that moment I realized that the near speed-of-light bread ball spoken of early had not hit a duck at all but hit poor Charlie. I genuinely felt bad for him but then realized I may be in a bit of trouble myself. At this very moment not only were the ducks planning a malevolent counter attack against their bread throwing nemesis but Lindsay looked up at me, the last known bread throwing offender. At this same moment my own wife Annie looks over at me too. I became aware of the very real possibility that everyone thought it was me who had thrown that bread, and with the absence of a grassy knoll what other conclusion was there?
At this point I began to see the fires of sudden death flare up in Lindsay’s eyes as she planned her revenge for the one who caused the bread pain to her youngest child. So in this moment let us pause to consider the current predicament I am in. Frozen in motion Lindsay tries to tend to her son and kill me with her eyes, my wife is stuck in the act of villainizing me with her stare at me as if I were the culprit and the ducks are slowly maneuvering towards me with an attack group. It is a tense moment indeed. However, it quickly comes to an end as the father runs to his child and quickly begins to apologize for hitting him. At the end of this whole ordeal I am still slightly awed by the incredible speed Brian was able to throw a ball of bread at. Now I know I promised mutants, and there were mutants, but I have let this go on long enough.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
After researching countless blogs we have realized that we have not been keeping with the strict responsibility of blogging. Now is the time to correct this issue. Do I suffer the slings and arrows of blogging mediocrity or take up arms against it and in doing so end it? A profound question that seems more and more applicable the less and less sane I find myself. In decorating our apartment Annie and I were forced to confront a very serious question; how? “How”, a daunting word but a word nonetheless and one that must be answered. So what does one do to make their wall extract, brutally if necessary, the appropriate “Ooos” and” Ahhs “.
My mind began to turn. “What is a wall?” I asked myself. I thought of the word “wall” and began thinking of words that rhymed; “mall”, “stall”, “tall”. But none of these worked. Then I thought “ball”. Well we could cover the entire wall with balls. Not quite what I wanted but I was getting closer. I could feel it closing in. There just beyond the reach of my mental orbit was the answer, beating like the heart of a corpse buried beneath the floor boards. Annie then suggested we adorn the wall with paintings. For the life of me I could not understand what paintings had in common with the word “wall”. I gave her a nod that suggested it was a possibility while secretly I wondered how much she really grasped the concept of decorating. Then it struck me, album covers. Yes ,it was perfect. Now there are those of you who may wonder what album covers and a wall have in common, but therein lies the genius.
At first glance one is left perplexed and without any reasonable connection. Then to our joy an invited guest , most likely in mid sentence, will smile and, rising from his or her seat, give the verbal indication of approval and delight: “Ahhhh” or perhaps even an “Ooo”. For you see album covers are perfect. What have they in common with walls you ask? Only Michael Jackson’s famed album “Off The Wall”. Or perhaps Pink Floyd’s “The Wall”. And was it not one of the greats that poetically chiseled into our minds that the words of the prophet are written on the subway walls? Walls and album covers….you may now “Ooo” and “Ahhh”.
What can be said about the Duck Pond? To those of you who ask this question and are possessed of the notion that a duck pond has ducks and ponds and nothing else I can pleasantly offer you a tale of pain, mutation and bread. Some of you may notice that I have given The Duck Pond the eminent crown of the proper name because two weeks ago it transcended a mere pool of filth and feathers and became an event. A few weeks ago Annie, myself and Lindsay-Brian family decided it was about time to visit The Duck Pond. I think the desire arose more from the fear of Sam’s violent reaction to our furniture and the parents need to feel free to breath with a languid rhythm. To The Duck Pond we went. For brevity’s sake I will skip the tale of the journey itself. Before us now lay the very pond I have spoken of. It was less than I expected yet somehow more. The Pond was small and it certainly was worked upon by ducks but they seemed mild and lazy. Yet the murky water obfuscated the vision and tantalized the brain with wonders of the sea. Half an inch below the water was a complete mystery and any idea I had previously held that ponds and lakes were disgusting immediately left me as I realized the filth in The Pond was not a tribute to bacteria, algae and animal droppings but rather it held the same magical properties as a cardboard box or a mysterious magical door that could lead to outer space or a clean Wal-Mart. I had been standing at the edge of The Pond thinking about the very essence of life and realized that as I stood there pondering existence I was missing the chance to throw balls of bread at ducks heads. The bread was handed out, and when I say bread I really mean the bakery that Brian brought along. I began to see how accurately I could throw a ball of bread at a duck. As I did this something happened…something that cannot be contained within this blog entry. Thankfully it can be contained in the next one.