I dunno why I swatted the fly...

Mere minutes ago, I was laying on top of our bed reading a new novel that I'm really enjoying all about a woman's journey with her experience of the eventual disintegration of her mother's memory and abilities due to Alzheimer's disease. "The Glass Seed" by Eileen Pearkes. I'm off topic. Anyway, as I was peacefully reading my book, there was a fly buzzing about the place and landing on things stupidly, like the hot bulb of our bed lamp, and then fluttering and buzzing about more madly because of the self-induced burn marks on its wee-feet. I'm pretty good at ignoring noises while I read, especially if the book is interesting, but this fly kept making itself known in my immediate consciousness by landing on the pillow next to me, walking around, buzzing a bit, and then swooping off to do a second round of burn marks on the bulb, then returning for a pillow-walk by my head. By the fourth or fifth cycle, I had taken quite a notice to this little fly-disturber, and decided to take action. Not only did I hit the fly on our bed! but I used my new and autographed copy of 'The Glass Seed' to knock the fly senseless. I was impressed by the rapid 'Swap!' of the thick book that ultimately beat the fly to the race for freedom. Brian was less than impressed by my swatting action on none other than his side of the bed. Oopsies. Sorry, honey. Being a lazy git that I am sometimes (I was comfy on the bed in reading position), I told Brian I'd clean it up later, but "Don't let me forget". Sure enough, a few pages later in my book, I look up to a space on the bed with.... no fly. What the heck? I guess I must have knocked the sense out of it, but its sense came back with a vengeance and it took off to go for one more burn run and then landed on..... Brian's pillow. I couldn't do it. I wanted to, but I couldn't. So, I asked Brian to come and get it for fear my movement would make it take off for the hot bulb one more time. Brian shifted the fly onto a piece of paper and then moved the whole thing out of the bed area and then smacked it real good with Johnny's old license plate. That fly had no chance. Sorry, buddy. To make sure it was good and gone, Brian flicked it out onto the deck, where there are a few fresh centimetres of snow, surely a great place for a twice beat-up, burn-victim fly.