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My 2 to 5 Weeks Life of a Common Housefly

Kenneth, born and raised in the South, resides in Hamilton, Alabama. He enjoys sharing his unique perspectives on life through his writing.

This is "My" Beginning--This Cannot be Changed, so

the Female Housefly usually mates only once and stores the sperm for later use. She lays batches of about 100 eggs on decaying organic matter such as food waste, carrion, or faces. These soon hatch into legless, white larvae, maggots. After two (to) five days of development, these metamorphose into reddish-brown pupae, about eight mm (0.3in) long. Adult flies normally live for two (to) four weeks, but can hibernate during the winter. The adults feed on a variety of liquid or semi-liquid substances, as well as solid materials which have been softened by their saliva. They can carry pathogens on their bodies and in their faces, contaminate food, and contribute to the transfer of food-borne illnesses, while, in numbers, they can be physically annoying. For these reasons, they are considered pests.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a Common housefly.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is a Common housefly.

Remember, I Told you

about me having to have a starting point and you having to read "my" birth squeamish as it may be. I am writing this narrative just to show you that Mankind "can" be interchangeable with Insects. I watched this happen twice: Jeff Goldbloom and Vincent Price both had their part in Role Play as they wanted to go beyond normal studies about the Housefly, but accidentally became the Common Housefly. I'm okay with "me" accidentally-stumbling into an open door (some lab) at the Marshall Space Flight Center, Huntsville, Ala., and falling face-first into some ammonia-based liquid on the floor. I can't remember much after that--except I came to sticking on the ceiling with my wife going hysterical (a rare moment) about my whereabouts.

I'm a quick-study. I learned (from sticking to the ceiling in the lab) that watching is far more effective for my attack on humans--and with the Evolution of me going from a male to a Common Housefly, has given me at least 2000 or more eyes at the front of my body. Nothing escapes me. At while I am watching people come and go, I can use my front legs to keep myself groomed because a fly never knows when the next piece of dropped food will be, so I want to look good.

Flying from this obscure lab, I detect the odors emitting from this cafeteria where the employees go for their break and lunch times to relax, eat, and recharge themselves in order to win a Nobel Prize. Hey! I can hardly believe it! I see a middle-aged guy talking his head off about some rocket formula and his pal is hanging on every word. And the talker has deserted his three-inch T-bone steak, baked potato, and that luscious salad. Did I hit pay-dirt or what? I shouldn't be this lucky.

I can't afford to eat too much because if my body balloons, my wings will tire quickly and I will need to rest, so I fight off the cravings of this man's salad--I laid several million eggs in his steak, so I am pretty much spent for the short time that I have been a Housefly.

Suddenly I am facing a panic attack. Is this cafeteria "it?" Or is there something else? I think (before I find a warm place to sleep) I will scout-out this office complex. Who knows? I might find another place where humans have dropped some snack item because the humans were male and female and just had to sneak a kiss or two. Filthy humans! Sometimes I wish that I had some way to eradicate human beings of the earth so my kind could re-populate and take over this plane

I will be honest. When I was a man, I would grow weary of having to walk for long periods of time and now that I have wings, they get weary also, so when I became a Common Housefly, Evolution didn't take care of "all" of the little things that can irritate a housefly--just buzzing around and doing what a fly does best whatever that may be.

On the way here to something called the "Men's Room," I noticed the prettiest female fly who met me before I landed here. She smiled brighter than a 4th of July fireworks display when I winked at her. Speaking of winking, she received thousands of eyes winking at her. That is something that no human can ever do.

In this "Men's Room," all I seen was a few guys trying to sneak a smoke since the entire building, Marshall Space Flight Center is Smokeless and with that fact, I don't know how to feel since now in my life as a Housefly, I've never took up that habit and if you want my honest opinion, it looks really silly. And in this room, there are several types of aromas--men's cologne, deodorant and talk about nasty, this one commode was really sickening with something called Human Waste, but "that" aroma reminded me of something that my elders told me about when I was a larvae.

It says that when we flies live from two to five weeks, we die off of the earth and we back to the earth to be reborn again, but in one of two places: The Raid Lake or The World Sewer System, the place where all good Houseflies long to be. Just think. Laying around in human waste all the day long and ride the current down the sewer of more human waste, but if a Housefly does bad things during those two to five weeks, he will go to The Raid Lake where a giant can of Raid will torment him forever with the continual squirting of Insecticide while a battalion of Fly Swatters chase him in a never-ending chase.

That is something that has made me think. I do not want The Raid Lake. Not at all. And you know what's funny? just a minute ago, I wanted to approach what friends that I had as a man, but buzz their ears when they are really concentrating on something serious--I don't even want to do that. I just want to fly, land on half-eaten cheeseburgers, and take a few naps.

And before my life of two to five weeks expires, I will do all that I can to tell other Houseflies about what the elders taught me and this way, I will get to meet them in The World Sewer System.

Housefly looking downward from his "lofty" place: the ceiling.

Housefly looking downward from his "lofty" place: the ceiling.

© 2018 Kenneth Avery

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