I Am a Trained Assassin

Hands of lightning, reflexes of a cat


I kill on sight! Photo by oktavianus mulyadi on Unsplash

A small fly flew by my nose while I cleaned up the dinner dishes. I clapped my hands, hoping that the loud noise would stun or kill him. This is a little known method, but it works well with small flies. The big ones will only buzz you again and laugh.

My clap did momentarily cause this fly to fall to the counter, but he quickly recovered and flew off before I could administer a fatal blow. Damn, he was quick, and his small size made it hard to follow him.

They say of some, “He wouldn’t hurt a fly!” They’d never say it of me. I murder flies on sight, with my hands, a book, a towel, whatever I have to use.

I attribute my viciousness to my French, Norse, and Welsh ancestry. The Norsemen’s fury is fully documented on TV, the dispassionate coldness of the British is well represented by James Bond, and the Welsh language plainly would encourage violence, or as they would incomprehensibly mumble, annog trais.

I am trusting Google for this translation. Apple does not consider Welsh worth translating, which may be wise. Consider the Welsh place name “Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch”. Even Google gives up on that.

I hate flies, I murder flies. I have hated them ever since I learned about their pre-meal preference of first throwing up onto food they land on. As if their feet were not disgusting enough! And their bulging eyes! Ugh!

Apparently large carcasses would linger much longer were it not for fly maggots. Is this supposed to justify their existence? All my large dead things are buried deep in the woods and need no maggots nor pesky neighbors complaining about odors.

The little fly from my kitchen nonchalantly landed on the dishwasher handle. A difficult target, so I clapped just above him as hard as I could. He fell stunned to the floor, where I stomped him into mush.

I am not ashamed. I feel no guilt. Flies must die. I am now waiting for protestors from the SPCA, or Greenpeace, or anyone else who wants to trouble me.

They are cautioned to remember what I said about the deep woods.



Anthony (Tony/Pcunix) Lawrence

Retired Unix Consultant. I write tech and humor mostly but sometimes other things. see my Lists if your interests are specific.