Little fly on the wall, why are you such a little disturbance?
My God, it’s like you want to be my new friend.
But don’t you understand that I have things to do?
I’m a busy boy these days and you just can’t expect me to lay all of my best made plans down because that’s what you expect, do you? Oh dear, that’s just not how the world works. Some of us, we – we aspire to that next explosion, you know? How much more devastating can we possibly get?
I know, it’s endless!
But these things take time – they take effort – and I trust you understand why it’s best if we move past this and continue the lives we want to lead, yes?
But then – from the wall – you land on my shoulder, then creep against my ear until I’m disturbed by the buzzing.
You’ve taken away my focus – are you proud of yourself?
Do you even understand what would have happened to me at one point if I didn’t listen to instructions? Especially simple ones? I’d be squashed mercilessly until every drop of blood was out of my body – and then left for the vultures.
But I don’t need to tell you that – a few of your friends have disappeared over time, haven’t they? Why don’t you go back to your little corner, far and away from my ear, and think about why you don’t have those friends anymore.
A few warning shots all with the relatively harmless tool of the mouth – and that should be more than enough for the hint to be taken – yes?
Of course not, right Banzan?
You pesky, dirty vector birthed from shit.
All I’ve ever wanted was for the disturbances to go away – this buzzing, burning in my head to redirect so that I could take care of my obligations and move onto the next level.
But you’re presence is stifling – you’re oppressively there when you’re not even wanted.
I’m not here to save you, and you aren’t here to save me. You are simply as inconvenient as a rabid pest that likes to cut lines – inconsiderate of someone’s time and someone’s effort – and you’re no more a threat than the devil is himself to me.
And I can assure you, he has no interest in SeeSaw.
Yet, you do.
The little fly on the wall that got a little too comfortable with its surroundings – a little too comfortable in thinking he knows the science of the person that owns the house.
It’s probably generational, right?
I mean, just think of the terrible grief the little fly would let out if I could actually hear what its saying – all of those fellow maggotbloomers far beyond Rainbow Road.
There’s loss behind those bowling ball eyes, Banzan. I can feel it, yeah?
Curiosity is the highest cause of death for the likes of you – because you substitute the disturbance that you’re creating by the desire of feeling like you’re making a difference.
But you’re not.
You’re just a buzzing.
I suppose it’s time to pull out the good ole’ New York Times, you little bloodsucker you.
You’ll fit across the Obituaries just nicely.
Wham – Hahahahaha!