There was a bird
on a sill
of a house
on a farm
I chose not
It went away.
There was a bird
There are four warnings which must be given to any man, that he may pass through this life unscathed.
What? How would I know what they are. Do I look unscathed? Are you saying my father was smarter than me, possessed this critical wisdom but neglected to pass it on? That’s insulting; I probably should scathe you.
When eating a tangerine, there may still be seeds, but they are small and can only break your teeth if you too are small. That is the reason you should decide to be big.
I’ll admit it, I don’t like your face. I may rearrange it. Do you think my dad is a pervert, the type of freak who puts his hands on little kids’ heads, teaches them things?
If you fall backward, you won’t see where you land. It is not likely that the person in whose arms you end up is the person for you. Best to fall forward and know whom you are falling for. Breaking your nose is a small price.
Do you always go around insulting the people who hate you? There are so many of us, where do you find the time. My dad was one. He hated you. He told me so. He said I should hurt you if ever I can.
We all want a child who is like us, so it is best to have yourself as a child. There is no law which prevents this, so if it does not happen that must be your fault.
You look like a no-can-do kind of guy, the sort who picks fights with people by not picking fights with them. Well, I’m itching for a can-do fight with a no-can-do sort.
If you are called upon to perform a blind taste test, it is best to lie. One or the other will be insulted, and you never should insult a large corporation. They are bigger than you and hate losing. Instead say that you love them both equally and unconditionally and have no taste.
Why would my dad tell you these things, but not me? He loved me, nurtured me, ate my brothers. Why would he do that but not tell me how to live my life? Why would I tell my dad these things instead of me. You’d think you already would know better and have told me them first.
There was a bitter old woman who scowled at me in passing.
What cause do you have to be bitter? I asked her. It seems unfair to be bitter without a cause.
Do I now need a reason to be bitter? Who are you to demand this of me?
It is wrong to scowl at passerby, I insisted. I know this because I am a passerby and you scowled at me.
A child presumes to lecture me, she laughed. That is why I am bitter.
I smiled. You are laughing, so you must not be so bitter after all.
No, I am twice as bitter now because you made a bitter old woman laugh.
When you are at home in the ordinary chaos of things coming and going, it is easy to ignore a fly. This can be a mistake.
There are flies, and there are flies. Pay close attention to the shape of the wings, the striations, the abdominal patina. These may be the give-away, the sign that this fly, out of billions, is a killer. It is the anathema, the 1943 copper penny, the brown recluse.
This does not mean it necessarily will go out of its way to kill you. It may be busy or lazy or simply not in the mood. It may bide its time until your child is asleep or it may decide you altogether unworthy of the effort. Then again, it may not.
You won’t know you are dead until some time has passed. This fly looks almost identical to any other and seems innocuous. Perhaps if you hadn’t shooed it or tried to swat it or made eye contact or failed to offer it a lucrative compensation package it simply would have gone away. But it did not, and the fault probably is yours.
Of course, you may not have recognized the fly, thought it ordinary, harmless. That is no excuse. If anything, it is insulting.
There are 230 visual characteristics that can be used to identify a fly. Killer and ordinary flies differ in only one of these, and nobody is sure which. Even the most renowned expert has little chance of telling. But perhaps you can do better, since you care, since you’re the one who will die.
There’s no certainty, only statistics. Find a way to bend these in your favor and perhaps you will live another day. Avoid the fly, run from it. Sometimes ignoring it can help; if there is no such thing it cannot hurt you.
Why should there be this fly? It has no right to exist, to threaten you and your child! But it does, and if you encounter it perhaps you can seduce it, persuade it to find somebody else – somebody less important, somebody less you (or your child). This rarely works, or perhaps you are that somebody else.
The sad truth remains: the fly is out there, unrelenting, buzzing, waiting. You must accept that it will kill you. If it is indeed a killer. Does it want your death or just some sugar?
Once the fly has bitten you, you will die. The fatality rate is 100%. Sometimes it is quick and painless, other times it can last for decades, culminating in one of many lingering, debilitating conditions. The symptoms are indistinguishable from ordinary illness, it is probably best not to bother with a doctor.
Save your money for a quality tomb. Finding a good place to spend eternity is difficult. Do you think there is room left in heaven or hell? Real estate is in high demand, you’ll likely end up stuck in your grave. Be certain it’s a nice one. Most important, make sure there are no holes, or a fly may get in.