Our kill board yesterday.

Our kill board today.

Boredom isn’t good for flies.

We open our office door during the (relatively) cool morning and evening hours. That means we are likely to have any number of guests, wanted and unwanted, poking their noses in. Mostly it’s just harmless “hellos” and “how ya doin’s” from neighboring trailer dwellers. But sometimes, it’s flies.

The flies drive us insane. Apparently, we are not the only ones afflicted by the little beasties, because the PX recently started stocking fly swatters. Now, each one of us has one in our little four-man trailer.

It started out innocently enough…a dead fly here, a dead fly there. But then it progressed. Soon, we were in full competition, with myself and Dan (the Danimator) going head-to-head. Now it is one of our best forms of entertainment.

When one of us would make a kill, the other would ask for proof. The body would have to be recovered and placed on the padded envelope covering the small trashcan in the corner by Dan’s desk. Fly corpses began piling up like tiny little horror film props. Pretty soon, we developed a sort of battle rhythm, and “No guts, no glory” became our mantra.

As soon as a fly is detected, swatters are taken up. The fiercest of competitors hold still and say a silent prayer that the minute, pesky flying enemy will land on their desk, or their computer, or their knee or arm. They are much easier to kill when they land on something. Eventually, the little bugger holds still for too long, and, THWACK! Shouts of joy ring out from the victorious warrior, while the other players demand, “No guts, no glory.”

If the body can’t be found, or if no trace of guts can be presented, no kill. Today, I eviscerated one and then accidentally smeared it into the fibers of our dusty carpet. Luckily, I had enough of his tiny little abdomen on the swatter to prove I’d made a kill.

We have a kill board, and as gross as it is, we won’t take it down. We’re oddly proud of it. We tape our flies to the wall with each kill, and lost or decimated deaths are annotated with a little drawing of a fly.

Dan was winning for a few days, but I caught back up today. He says it’s because he has more work to do, keeping him busy. I say he just isn’t trying. Yes, I will get up from my desk to invade another’s battle space, but I am a competitive little vixen, and I will get my fly. I will win. Oh, yes, I will win. No little 25-year-old civilian , cutie (that's you, Dan) is going to best this former Marine…MUWAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA……