Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt
Fly On You Risky Rascal
Being a fly has many risks. “You spend a large share of your life dodging fly swatters, it actually becomes quite a sport.” I did find it was easier to do all the time because all you have to do is watch the person with the swatter ‘they always give away what their intentions are.’ Summers are great, “I try to get to it as many picnics as I possibly can” “always put on a lot of weight every summer.” We have to be careful crawling inside of pop cans for shade, one chug-a lug could end it all.
One time, “I was just minding my own business.” ‘If you can believe that.’ I happened to land in the back of a truck, the driver closed the door on me. I ended up traveling all the way to California. I must admit I enjoyed the warm sunshine there because I got on the truck in Chicago. Winter was approaching rapidly and ‘I knew my days would have been numbered’ I sure didn’t want to sleep somewhere along the lakefront, “it gets awful cold there.” I was almost a barfly in the “Windy City.”
One day at the surfing beach, I got chased away from the bikini bunnies so I flew inside of a car and was resting comfortably on the dashboard, ‘these people took off down the road 80 miles an hour.’ I can’t believe it, the driver was trying to shoo me out of the window, ‘as sure as sweet sugar on a cookie,’ out I went end over end and crashed somewhere along the roadside. I thought for sure I was dead but somehow I got up on all of my shaky legs. I ‘instantly realized’ I was close to a dairy farm. I enjoyed the sweet smell for awhile, then made a beeline for the place. ‘bad term’
I had a good life for a long time, raised lots of young ones there. We didn’t cry over spilled milk, we swam in it. Manure was a plentiful commodity, there was molasses in the feed. It was almost as if I was killed in the highspeed exit out the window and it sent me to fly heaven. The dairy farm used those old sticky fly strips in some areas, it was a lot of fun to watch people get them caught in their hair nets, “pulled them right off.”
“All good things must end,” ‘one day all of my dreams came crashing down as they sprayed the cow barn with ‘all the doors and windows closed.’ I was trapped there, unable to find the smallest escape hole. ‘These were my last words I wrote as a fly.’ My life passed before my eyes in a flash. I recall Grandpa talking about living in an outhouse. I don’t think I would like that, “No I wouldn’t have liked that at all.”
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