Lately I hang out with flies more than people. Which is sort of funny if you think about it, but anyways... In all my time hanging out with flies I've also killed a lot of my friends, and by friends I actually meant to say flies. Unreasonable amounts of them. I'm a cold blooded killer.
Until a few days ago, when all of the sudden, I couldn't do it anymore. I'd rather have the flies drive me mad than kill one. Like inflicting that PAIN on them hurts me!
Ok, wait, it's not that it's pain. Because they are dead. But I always imagine all the other flies flittering over their friend and thinking, "Oh goodness!" And then they come over and mourn the loss of their fly friend and wonder if they are next. Then I remember flies are flies and not people.
How odd.
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