I eat flies like you for breakfast

I killed a fly today. I did it without thinking. The vacuum cleaner nozzle was in my hand, the fly was on the floor; I engineered a convergence. It was just another crumb; the urge to CLEAN took over.

I wouldn’t ordinarily do this. I’ve never been a swatter; in fact, I usually find myself slightly aggravated by people who feel compelled to crush whatever tiny, buzzing creature falls within their sphere of influence. Particularly because they often take such satisfaction in it—it’s as though they’ve achieved some sort of moral victory over the faceless external forces that conspire to upset and distract them at every turn. They’ve asserted themselves: This is me! In the battle ‘twixt man and bug, it is I who prevail!