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Fish flies

Entomophobia is the fear of insects. I am not afraid of insects; I just hate certain types. And I have no problem killing them if they get my way. For that reason, I am not a Buddhist. I enjoy eastern philosophy, but I don't think I'd be welcomed to the club, for an obvious reasons: Killing someone's reincarnated cousin. Being reincarnated as a fish fly is kind of a rip off. Their average life span is twenty-four to forty-eight hours. The have only one purpose; to go to the light before they go to the light. They're no threat at all. They don't eat and they don't bite. They just want to mate.  Dying afterwards, well, let’s just say, they didn't get the memo. I have seen fish flies hanging out at the gas station in August. Fish flies are generally a June and July bug. Maybe they figured out that if they played hard to get, they could hang around a little bit longer. 

                                                                Stop go run

My stepson feared only one bug, and you guess it: The fish fly. I remember it was June and school was almost done.  Unfortunately, he had to endure a month of stinking fish flies. Waiting at the bus stop was no picnic. His brother, knowing about his affliction, plucked the buggers by their wings and put them right in his face.  Everyday the fear washed over him. He knew had to leave the house and make a run for it. He wore shoes with Velcro; he couldn't chance a lose lace. -What if he fell into insect orgy on the lawn? The bus stop was just down the road, a quick hop, skip and jump. Running there didn't change the outcome because at the bus stop there was a light and, on that light, a million fish flies fornicating. But he ran anyways. We lived on a canal and we were surrounded by canals: there is no way to outrun them. There he was running down the road like a crazy man, spinning a towel propeller above his head. This was supposed to stop the bug landing on him, but his brother was behind in hot pursuit with a helpless bug in his hand to fling at him. Boys will be boys.

Take cover

I don't know when I started driving the boys to the bus stop, but I got a feeling it started one day in June. On the corner we sat and waited for the bus hiding from the flies and playing I spy. -I spy with my little eye a little winged friend on your shoulder. After school the boy with the towel propeller ran home. So did his brother and little flying friend who was kicking but couldn’t scream. The screaming was left to the towel boy. 

I wonder if he is still afraid. I will have ask him next time I see him. I want thank my ex for reminding me about this story.


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