Then there are flies.
Last week we had a
little infestation in the bathroom. I must
have smashed 50 juveniles in one fevered
session with a rolled-up newspaper and
another two dozen the next morning. They
were small and slow, struck down in their
prime I suppose. It was either them or me.
I wish I had thought to film myself going
after them. I must've looked a crazy man.
Still, it was nice for that little while to
clearly defined purpose, however murderous.
Tough stuff, I know. But not as rough as the
tome that did this bugger in. Does anyone do menace
and mordant wit better than Bowles?