"Cat-like Ninja Reflexes"

¡Warning! This piece has a soundtrack to it. For a more pleasurable reading experience blast Ashlee Simpson's "Outta My Head" while reading. (Just don't touch yourself, please)

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So, there was this fly in my room. This wasn't the first time I had noticed it. It had been taking up residence in my room for the past week but it had made quite a show of introducing itself that first night . . . . .

I was getting ready for bed at around 11:00 P.M. Sleepily, I pulled back the covers, revealing my soft, lush pillow, when a miniscule, brown thing with wings plopped right down on it. In my mind, I could see it sprawled out on its back with legs crossed saying "Hey baby! Shed the colorful attire and rest your head on Daddy's lap!"

In other words: There's a frickin' bug on my bed!

How was I supposed to smash it? Without getting bug guts on my pillow case?

Thinking I was smart, I held a tissue over it and carried my pillow to the bathroom so I could wash him down the drain. I had the water running in the sink when I lifted the tissue to flip the bug but the bastard fled. And all I could do was stand there stupidly with my pillow as I watched him fly out into the dark hallway. . . .

Now, days later, he had shown up again making it apparent that he had been in my room this entire time. I felt my right of privacy had been completely violated. This had to be a government conspiracy.

Nah, not really.

I was seated on the edge of my bed getting ready to practice the clarinet. I had been to the library earlier and was listening to the latest Ashlee Simpson CD I had borrowed. From out of nowhere, the fly decided to swoop in, probably thinking that this was going to be a free community concert or something.

Yeah right, buddy!

With clarinet in my right hand and headphones blasting "Outta My Head" in my ears, I employed the use of my cat-like ninja reflexes and snapped that pervert up like a cookie out of cookie jar. With my bare hand!

Ew.

I must hand it to him (literally and figuratively) he almost got away. His puny little body was stuck to the tip of my middle finger. Fortunately, he was big enough to show up on my digital camera, pictures to savor my victory by, before I buried him in my trashcan.

So now I can sleep easier at night knowing that when I get dressed in the morning there won't be itty-bitty eyes watching me.

Or will there?