Monday, August 3, 2020
Kamikaze bug flies into my ear
I wondered what was going on inside the fly’s head as it flew straight inside mine.
Was it a fearless scout? A fugitive? Or maybe a Jedi insect probing Death Star weak spots?
It was an odd sensation because — BUZZZZ!!! — I knew it was going to penetrate my outer ear about two seconds before it did. I’ve heard it’s that way with some combat veterans who say they knew the bullet was about to strike before it did.
I was enjoying respite on the back porch and reading “Into The Blue: Boldly Going Where Capt. Cook has Gone Before,” the terrific, 2002 book by Tony Horwitz, one of my very favorite authors. I was very sad when he died last year at age 60.
Had a fly ever entered his head it would have been treated to brilliance.
What a fly so driven by mission zealotry hoped to find in my head, I have no idea.
I imagine being in my head like being on one of those forlorn wagon trains through desolate stretches of Nevada where all you see for landmarks are the bleached bones of desiccated cattle. No signs of life.
Nearest Sheetz 4.5 miles!
I can’t imagine being inside my head would be very appealing. It’s full of distracting thoughts about things like, well, flies.
It was I who in 2017 after many hours staring out the window came up with the line, “I’d like to be a fly on the wall any time flies on walls express their bafflement why any human would ever want to be a fly on the wall.”
Know what I did after coming up with that line?
Took the rest of the day off!
Yes, I thought I’d expended all my brain power on that line. The tank was empty.
Who thinks like that?
I’ve many, many times been called a shithead and that would certainly attract flies.
But this fly displayed an urgency you don’t see with flies at a poop picnic.
It was like he was being chased by a posse.
It hit like a meteor strike. I went in an instant from being perfectly relaxed to manic motion like I was in the running for some primitive dance contest.
I began jumping up and down and batting my head with both hands. From afar, I’m sure it was hysterical.
Understand, I didn’t know what kind of insect it was. Was I about to be stung?
I didn’t know.
I once talked to a stranger — a roofer by trade — who had a bee fly up his nose and sting him. He nearly died.
I told him I could only think of one worse place to be stung.
Well, worse for a man.
The internet is full of stories of insects entering ears or noses to lay eggs or spin webs or just enjoy a siesta.
As I was reading about Cook and his randy crew of situational sodomites, I wondered if the fly was a fearless explorer seeking a comfortable place to colonize.
Honestly, I didn’t think most of these thoughts until after the danger had passed.
After about 30 maddening seconds and with a combination of jarring, prying and pulverization, I was able to dislodge what turned out to be a common house fly from deep within my ear canal.
Still kicking, it fell to the porch.
I felt immediate regret.
I’ve spent the better part of my life trying to attain for inside my head the perfect natural buzz and what do I do when one’s delivered right to the door step?
I squash it with the sole of my sandal. Goodbye buzz!
That’s enough for now. This unplanned diversion’s already set me back and you all know what that means.
I gotta fly.