Dead Eye Dick

One night, recently, while drinking beer and swattin' flies, missing most with a handled fly swatter, I remembered a contraption called a fly gun. It is a fly swatter propelled by a spring action toy gun. The string keeps the fly swatting part from flying too far and retrieval easy. It is also lethal on flies. An Internet site led me to them, all the way from South Africa and post was included, four fly guns for less than twenty and the postal stamps were really cool.

And such fun. Hitting flies when they land is okay but we have advanced to hitting them on the fly. Like skeet shooting, only the target is now doing circles. It has a retrievable projectile, with an advanced system of string tied to the gun and the other end tied to the rod that propels the weapon of death on hapless, if not extremely annoying Musca domestica. But the insect is not crushed, leaving the fly swatting web clean of fly gunk. In fact there are wounded to deal with. Flies stunned or crippled begging to have their lights out. A quick reload, a crushing slam and the fly, flies no more.

I'm finding the summer absolutely delightful. Cold beer at hand, fans with misters attached, stand at each end of the patio and me, sitting in the shade, writing, drinking and shooting flies. I feel, that I just turned a corner in my life. I have found a place in the cosmos.

To deal out life or death, while never leaving my chair, is an exhilarating experience and as the day grows warm and beer flows, I sit with sinister desire waiting for a chance to nail one of the bastards. Far better yet, when friends arrive is to get them involved in the carnage. We ordered enough fly guns from Africa for a platoon of, Dead Eye Dicks. I'll need to order more, flies keep coming, we keep reloading and with a steady supply of cold beer and a laptop--heaven awaits those on the short end of the string.