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Wednesday, December 6, 2006
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Blow-fly you must die.
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I am tired. And frustrated. I want to sleep. But my enemy is lurking around my room, ready to pounce at any moment. I come home late, expectations rising as I know I'm about to cuddle into my electric-blanket-heated-up bed ready to drift off into la-la-dream land. Yet, as I'm about to embark on this adventure that I so fondly call sleep... an enemy makes himself known to me.
It started off with a light humming noise.
But louder and louder it became, until it was like the sound of a deafening chain-saw.
I want to kill it.
I hate it.
It then began to do acrobats in the air, chainsaw screaming, flying faster and faster around my room. In my over-sized tee shirt made for sleeping and not fighting, I grab my towel and began to prance around the room ready to gun down my enemy. Anger is rising. I want it dead.
I proceeded to throw my towel at my newest-hate for the next 15 mins.
He is still alive.
I'm now in bed, holding up my white flag in surrender.
Tomorrow I will move out of this room, as the blow-fly won and it belongs to him now. |
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posted by Samantha Louise
1:38 AM
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You need to work on that aim ;)
The thing I hate most is the high-pitched whine of a mozzie. I just know that little sucker is hovering over me waiting to take a bite. EEEGH!!!
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You need to work on that aim ;)
The thing I hate most is the high-pitched whine of a mozzie. I just know that little sucker is hovering over me waiting to take a bite. EEEGH!!!