I have always been a reluctant killer of small insects. Mosquitos, spiders, bees, cockroaches, whatever – even if the threat was imminent, I tried to find some way to usher the pest out of sight and out of mind. But if the situation called for it, I’d kill, and I'd kill efficiently.
This was true for all but one foe – the fly. Oh, the fly. Was it placed on Earth to taunt my dull reflexes? I’d swing and swat to no avail. I even tried sneaking up on it, palm taut, but the quieter my approach, the faster the fly seemed to zoom away. I've struggled with this issue for something like three decades.
I realized over the summer that I was getting it all wrong. I never succeeded with the fly because I focused on my actions. The way to get the fly wasn’t in the action, it was in the interaction. The only predictable thing about the fly was that it would escape my first attack. Therefore, I needed to factor this into my move and catch it after it escaped.
I studied the fly's movements all summer. Each time I encountered my ancient foe, I paid close attention to its escape route. I noticed that the fly was indeed the perfect bug, capable of switching directions at the slightest hint of an obstacle. But it had a fatal flaw – it only flew forward. The fly’s ugly red eyes were always pointed to its next spot.
One day, I pieced everything together. A fly that had spent the morning zipping circles around my head finally settled on the tabletop for a short snooze. Its face pointed away from the windows toward the comforts of the commode, and I approached from its left. I slowly extended my right hand until it was directly behind the winged beast. When my hand was in position – roughly the length of a paperback away from the fly – I raised my left hand above the table, directly above the spot about a foot in front of the insect.
I was ready. I struck quickly, my right hand moving first toward the fly. The fly jumped forward as I knew it would and my left hand slammed down onto the table. Success!
You may be wondering, reader, if there is a larger lesson in this story. Are we too focused on actions rather than interactions? Is pacifism the way to go? Am I insane? This story has nothing to do with this, that, or those. This story is about a fly, and how to kill it. Most of you don't know how to do it. This is how to do it. Good luck.
