Buzz off!
It irritates me to the core that people make jokes about me all the time and treat me as the messenger from hell. I am just going about my own business; I have better things to do than buzz near your ugly face and be a nuisance. I am not sure why you all complain so much. Why, the other day Ogden wrote a poem about me:
The Lord in his wisdom made the fly,
And then forgot to tell us why.
Pray, why? What makes him think I am useless? What did I do to him? And suddenly all the woke people who discovered nonsense poetry are showing off their “literary knowledge” with this couplet and laughing at my expense. Aaaargh! I have feelings too. Where are the PETA activists when you need them? Wait, do they even care about insects?
Although I must admit that I sniggered at the other Ogden couplets, like the ones on cows, and octopus, and fireflies. It’s always funny when it’s someone else. Tee-hee. But Ogden is just being witty there, and not taking a dig at the others. Why the discrimination with me, oh lord!
Then there are these idioms that I am not very happy about: “fly on the wall”. It refers to someone who watches others without being noticed. Doesn’t that sound sinister? Hey, why couldn’t it be a mosquito on the wall? Or a gnat on the wall, or an ant on the wall? Why me?
Another not-so-flattering phrase is “a fly in the ointment”. Do I have to spell it out for you? It alludes to a minor irritation that spoils the success or enjoyment of something. You can’t salvage a term like irritation by adding minor as a prefix. It just shows the minor respect you people have for me. I am appealing for a change here: “a beetle in the ointment” is what would please me. In my fly-bubble that’s what it’s gonna be. Bloody beetle, he’s got a car named after him!
And don’t think I am amused by the over-used, “Your fly is open.” I know, I know. The dictionary meaning of fly is a strip of material sewn along one edge of a garment opening for concealing buttons, zippers, or other fasteners. But couldn’t the linguists come up with a better place to use it than to tell a gentleman that he has forgotten to zip his pants? Sigh.
But I am rambling.
I do have my fly on the wall moments though. I am a houseguest (or housefly) at the Kapoor household now. I know all the skeletons in their closet. I secretly laugh at their terrible grammar, their pathetic sense of humor, and what Mr. Kapoor thinks of Mrs. Kapoor’s dal makhani. I hear him complain about that to his mother all the time.
I remember the time Mrs. Kapoor bought that Tennis racquet looking thingy. It scared the living daylights out of me! It stressed me no end when she tried to land that death swat on me the first few days. What a relief it was when she could no longer run around with her fat body. The racquet is forgotten somewhere at the back of the closet now. Yeah, the same closet where all the skeletons are. I hope no one discovers it.
It’s not like I am gonna live forever, or even outlast any of the humans. My lifespan is 28-odd days. Just let me be!
The only silver lining in my life is the fact that David Cronenberg decided to make a movie about me. Guess who played the lead role. Mr. McDreamy — Jeff Goldblum. Take that, Ogden Nash!
