Soon the bowls were brimming with trapped flies, the flypaper thick with victims, the bathroom mirror was smeared with splattered corpses (for some reason fruit flies love to hang out on mirrors – who knew they were so vain – which makes them much easier to spot and kill) But even that wasn’t enough, the flat was still abuzz with them. So we pulled out the big guns and bought some bug spray (organic of course, only the best for our guests)
Soon the windows were dripping with fresh victims, the floor sticky with spray and bodies. Within a few hours the flying hoardes had been reduced to a fluttering few. It wasn’t pretty, along the way we both got covered in bug spray (orange scented so it was really rather pleasant) and got our hair stuck in the flypaper (don’t ask – not very pleasant)
As we carried out mopping up operations we could hear both our neighbors next door and upstairs whacking away in earnest – so clearly we weren’t the only ones suffering, which at least meant it was something in the apartment building causing the infestation rather than our own slovenly habits – not that we have any.
The lesson from all this is that no matter how clean you are – and we are – and no matter how careful you are about matters of hygiene – and we are – that something outside your control can come along and mess things up in a hurry. That’s when it is time to put aside the niceties, to forget about being eco-friendly, environmentally aware, and to say ’screw it, let’s kill the bastards.”
So, yes. Squash is not a fruit. But that’s how the fruit flies ended up. Squashed. It wasn’t pretty. But that’s what you get for messing with my beer.