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I have only 24 hours left too live...
I am trapped inside a ramshackled house.The widow died 2 weeks ago and the dog has
collasped after 7 days of starvation and thirst. I smell the putrid essence of corpse - it is pure
bliss. I see scaby, rotting flesh; two week old mouldy fruit and dog droppings. Happy and
calm I decide to enjoy the rest of my short, short life.
I sunbathe in the scorching sun,which is doing its best to shine through the thick layer of
grime and the spider web infested windows. I live for the sun. If it was not for the sun I
would die; just like my friends, which I now pay my respects to. Their bodies lie on the
vintage lampshade, parallel to the evil air conditioning vent. I fly to the kitchen.
Stopping to nibble on a piece of chicken, that has been thawing on the worktop, I notice
the friut bowl. I pad across a soft, lush, decaying pear (only a few days ago it was fresh and
ripe). Next, I hop on to the desert - the desert of fungus! I scoff a healthy portion of
bacteria, full of protien. Later, I bathe in sour milk. I lather dog poo body wash all over me,
it will keep me nice and fresh.
BANG! The door has crashed to the floor and a team of people are streaming in. Some are
wearing scene of crime dispossable outfits. Others showcase exterminator outfits and
acessories with heavy machines and vacuum like guns. They remove the bodies and load
them into vans. Then they spray. I can not hold my breath any longer; I inhale. Toxic gas
travels up my nostrils, infiltrates my lungs and I am on the edge of death. I can feel it
flowing in my blood, travelling to my brain and I am dead. Quick and painful, one of the
best ways to go in my opinion.
It was my heaven. Strange, you may think? After all, I am a fly.
I am trapped inside a ramshackled house.The widow died 2 weeks ago and the dog has
collasped after 7 days of starvation and thirst. I smell the putrid essence of corpse - it is pure
bliss. I see scaby, rotting flesh; two week old mouldy fruit and dog droppings. Happy and
calm I decide to enjoy the rest of my short, short life.
I sunbathe in the scorching sun,which is doing its best to shine through the thick layer of
grime and the spider web infested windows. I live for the sun. If it was not for the sun I
would die; just like my friends, which I now pay my respects to. Their bodies lie on the
vintage lampshade, parallel to the evil air conditioning vent. I fly to the kitchen.
Stopping to nibble on a piece of chicken, that has been thawing on the worktop, I notice
the friut bowl. I pad across a soft, lush, decaying pear (only a few days ago it was fresh and
ripe). Next, I hop on to the desert - the desert of fungus! I scoff a healthy portion of
bacteria, full of protien. Later, I bathe in sour milk. I lather dog poo body wash all over me,
it will keep me nice and fresh.
BANG! The door has crashed to the floor and a team of people are streaming in. Some are
wearing scene of crime dispossable outfits. Others showcase exterminator outfits and
acessories with heavy machines and vacuum like guns. They remove the bodies and load
them into vans. Then they spray. I can not hold my breath any longer; I inhale. Toxic gas
travels up my nostrils, infiltrates my lungs and I am on the edge of death. I can feel it
flowing in my blood, travelling to my brain and I am dead. Quick and painful, one of the
best ways to go in my opinion.
It was my heaven. Strange, you may think? After all, I am a fly.
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