If it flies, then it dies
Fly swatting should be a new Olympic sport.
I have always loved watching the Olympics, but recently I’ve realized that the whole event lacks something useful. Every two years, we watch amazing athletes perform feats of brilliance that Dorito-eating, soda-sipping people like me could never do – at least not while basking in this recliner.
As neat as those events are, they really serve no constructive purpose. So what if I can hurl my body 20 feet over a pole, dangle from rings or perform a quadruple salchow (whatever that is)? Pest elimination is the new, useful direction international sporting events need to go.
The common housefly, scientifically known in Latin as musca domestica, or scientifically known in English as “shoo, don’t bother me,” must lead a horrible life.
Think about it. Flies are subjected all their lives to atrocious living conditions. They are literally born in piles of crap and spend the rest of their lives looking for more crap. The only interruptions in their crappy search are humans who oddly do something resembling rhythmic gymnastics in their attempt to destroy them.
I’m not sure about y’all, but I could do with a few less of these pests in my life. I’m still trying to understand why my workplace seems to attract so many of the pesky critters. Sure the office is frequently open to the outside, but that doesn’t mean flies need to go out of their way to annoy ME – but apparently, they don’t understand this.
So I swat them. I attempt to smush them with flyswatters, books, shoes, my hands and occasionally my best friend’s laptop, but nothing seems to work.
Recently the flies have gotten more daring and bold. They land on my open hand, taunting me, laughing in their little fly voices “Nyah, nyah, I just sat on a pile of dog poop!”
I have eradicated a few bugs, but am still worried by an ongoing theory that for every fly you kill, three more materialize in its place. It’s like a bad dream I had, only in the dream I was trying to kill Richard Simmons. Shudder.
I read somewhere on the Internet (so it must be true) that a if single pair of flies mated in April and all of their progenitors lived, there would be more than 191 quintillion flies by August. EEP! This is why we need the strongest, brightest and most athletic people in the world helping to control the pest population.
The new sport of fly swatting would involve several aspects of insect removal, including the simplest: Body Parts Restricted. Olympians in this event would not be allowed to use inanimate objects as aids in killing flies. Most people will simply use their hands, but I wager that eventually some weird guy will run around trying to suck bugs up his nose.
The next category, Standard Swatting Assist, allows participants to only use regular cheap fly swatters. Yeah, like the ones grandmas use to keep you in line.
One of the most exciting events in fly swatting is the Powered Swatting Assist. Competitors are allowed to use devices like those really neat electronic rackets that zap bugs into oblivion. Powered swatters, found at places like www.mosquito-zapper.com, look a little like small badminton rackets but have steel electric strings that make fun pops and flashes upon bug contact.
The last event is the Open Format, where athletes can use whatever they dang well please to get rid of flies. Well, not anything. Rules, of course, prohibit the use of some objects like professional pesticides, small nuclear explosions, washing machines or your rival’s elbows. Absolute experts, of course, always use chopsticks in this event.
I hope my idea will ignite in the hearts of the International Olympic Committee and a new sport will soon be born. If not, I’ll just find them and give them a wallop with my best friend’s laptop. That’ll show them!
Garrett Wheeler is a second bachelor’s student in technical theatre design. Send any comments or column ideas to wheel@cc.usu.edu.