WHACK!

I got him. I lean over the window sill to take a closer look. Both his wings appear to be broken, but it looks like his legs are working ok. He’s walking; or moving anyway. What now? Do I finish him off? Maybe I should remove his wings completely and just keep him? Like a pet. After all, he started it. He’s mine now. I could train him to follow instructions. What can I get him to do? What do you even call a fly without wings? Surely the wings make the fly a fly? Still, I hope they don’t need wings to survive. I doubt it. Not if I feed him. And I would take good care of him if he was my pet, even though we started off as enemies. What do they eat?

He looks dazed, which is understandable. I did whack him hard with a rolled up paper. It’s probably comparable to a tree falling on top of me. He’s moving around slowly on the window sill, looking annoyed, limping a bit. I wonder if he can see me or if I fucked his eyes up as well? It’s hard to tell. I try a sudden movement in front of him. A lighting-speed karate chop. No reaction. I hope I didn’t blind him. I don’t want a blind ex-fly for a pet. I feel a bit sorry for him. Just a few seconds ago he had the upper hand. He had wings and a stinger. Now he’s fucked and I’m the winner. No wings, no stinger, but still in control. It shows how quickly things can change in war.

I stand there for a while just looking at him. I feel kind of powerful. This must be what God feels like. Is that how he sees me? Would his God even be human? It seems patronising somehow. We put human faces on our Gods because we see ourselves as the pinnacle of evolution. Maybe horseflies see God as a giant horse fly? Maybe all creatures see their Gods as better, bigger versions of themselves? Who am I then? Just a big asshole that broke his wings? That’s no good. It makes me look like a bully. I want to shake him and tell him: “Fuck you, horse fly. I’m not the bad guy here! You tried to sting me and I fucked you up. You started it and I defended myself.” What if he’s an atheist? Then I’d definitely just be a big bully. The thought is depressing. I poke him with a pen, whisper “sorry” and wonder if he even speaks English.