"Ok," I said to my dad as he called me for one of his daily check-in phone conversations.
I held the phone with my left hand and with my right hand was an old newspaper. I got that big black fly whirling around my house. I hate flys. I do not know why the good Lord made these creatures?
Before my dad had called, I came back from hanging out with a friend and I heard that annoying and constant hum of a fly. Nothing makes the Spring and Summer season a reality like a fly mysterious entering your living area. I'm not sure how Mr. Fly arrived here? Yet, I know he will die here.
Mr. Fly came hovering towards me trying to get to the other side of my apartment. I stood there and I grabbed the old Wall Street Journal in my right hand and hit the fly. I stunned him and he fell on the floor.
I said a few words very quickly, "Mr. Fly say 'Hi' to Black Jesus for me. I wish ya well on this next journey." The old Wall Street Journal raised high in my right hand I delivered the last blow and Mr. Fly was no more. He proceeded to his next life. I'm not a philosopher. Perhaps, insects have souls?