So it's been with a sense of dread and sick anticipation that we awaited the next plague. We'd already been invaded by cockroaches and blasted by killer dust storms. And that was only in the first month. Surely there was going to be more, it was just a matter of time. I'd put my money on locusts. I was wrong.
It's FLIES.
In all fairness to Bako, this is not a naturally occurring phenomenon, it's entirely man-made.
And that man's name is Juan.
Our duplex comes with a stamp-sized front and back yard, and the rental deal includes a once a week gardener. That would be Juan. Clearly, he isn't very good. Both lawns are dead. All the shrubs too. The rest of the neighbors have lawns that look like lush, submerged rice paddies. Ours looks like a recently plowed alfalfa field. The shrubs, whatever they may have once been, are now nothing more than rooted balls of kindling. And yet he comes, dutifully each Thursday, to rake the dirt. God bless him.
While the shrubs are beyond hope, we were pretty sure the lawns could be salvaged, if only they were re-seeded. We proposed this to Juan, and he seemed genuinely excited. So imagine our surprise when we came home a few days later to a freshly seeded front lawn... covered with an inch and a half of manure. Real, honest to cow, manure.
The smell hit you first, and it hit you hard. But you were quickly distracted from that by the flies. Thousands and thousands of flies. They enveloped the house, and hid by the doors, just waiting for a chance to make it inside. Which they did. In droves.
It's been almost two weeks now, and the smell is long gone. The flies are not. In fact, I believe they've now taken up permanent residency, along with the cockroaches. They've taken a particular liking to my car, which they blanket as if it were a giant rotting melon. The boyfriend takes sadistic pleasure in killing as many as he can. The dogs eat them. I've just thrown in the towel and await what's next.
My money is still on the locusts.
