I made a frenemy.
That is, he believes he’s my friend, and I am most certain he is my enemy. Well, I suppose “it” is more appropriate than “he”.
…He’s a gnat. I named him Fievel.
Like most things that leak out of my brain and onto my computer keyboard, this is going to sound a little strange, but bear with me: I’m quite certain Fievel is following me.
It all started on my couch, when I noticed his faint black pencil-dot of a body swimming around my head. I fancy myself a fly-swatting monk so naturally I whipped out my skills, only to find that he evaded them. Again and again and again and again and again.
Since being a monk is all about patience and self-control, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that it was a simple gnat and it had only a few months to live and that if it chose to carry out its days by buzzing around my general vicinity then I should grant it that small pathetic desire. After all, he’s a gnat and I’m a human. I must be quite a startling thing to behold.
I was eventually able to tune him out of my sensory experience, though I knew full well that the black speck whizzing in front of me from time to time was Fievel the Frenemy. I didn’t think much of it until the next day when I sat at my very favorite spot on the couch again only to find him still buzzing and flitting around my skull.
In a moment of weakness several moments of weakness, I must admit that I attempted his murder again but failed. Apparently monk-like capabilities matter not when your monk-like fingers are awkward sausages with plenty of nooks for death-dodging.
An artistic rendering of the criminal. Since he doesn’t have wings I guess we’ll assume he can flap those arms real fast.
Fievel lived on
This repeated for a third and fourth day. I began to think that perhaps he was like the Who from Horton Hears a Who and that he had some sort of message to bring me, but I quieted everyone and everything around me only to remain unenlightened. Then I thought it possible that he was the culmination of some sort of curse or witchcraft and that if I could just figure out his name, his power over me would be released. But I found his name and his name was Fievel and it made no difference whatsoever to him or to the powers that be that I knew it.
I slowly started to become aware of my own teetering insanity and decided to think nothing particularly extraordinary about Fievel and simply wait for him to die. I thought the best remedy would be getting out of the house before the furniture started to speak to me, so I went to a gig with Dave this week to hear him play and as I sat, was greeted by none other than Mr. Fievel.
Son of a.
Friends and acquaintances who spoke with me throughout the evening made side comments about him as if he was just some nuisance at the bar, but I insisted he was my nuisance and that I brought him from home, which, in retrospect, is probably one of several reasons no one sat at my table and is a small piece of a very grand pie chart explaining why my social life is strained.
I again attempted his murder, they attempted his murder – it was the whole bar against Fievel and Fievel prevailed. He’s like the terminator of the gnat world.
Fastforward to yesterday, same couch, same situation. After his grand display at the bar the night before, I was feeling pretty aggressive and wanted him out of my life for good. It had been days of his whizzing and buzzing and flittering nonsense and I had enough it. So I proceeded to waste the next 15 minutes of my life trying once again to eradicate him. I had made up my mind to not stop until he was brought to justice. Fueled by anger and humiliation and the apparent slipping of my monk abilities, I swatted and clapped and made a mess of myself until red-faced and sweaty, I finally opened my hand to reveal little Fievel, hiding in a crevice between my sausage links.
Whereupon he swiftly flew up my left nostril.
I suppose it’s the ultimate win for him. I can’t very well harm him while he’s swirling around the gooey insides of my brain and he can live out his apparent dream to stay by my side until he dies. And when he does his tiny gnat corpse will get tangled up somewhere in the regions of my brain and get caught in the neurons and synapses and such. He will become part of me forevermore. At least I hope so. Because if instead he was actually on a mission from the land of the gnats to infiltrate a human and to take command of their brain, well, he’s succeeded. And I’ve just become the downfall of the human race.
Maybe they’ll make a movie about me. In case it’s posthumous and any of my readers survive, tell them I want Amy Adams to play me, okay?
Thanks. I knew I could count on you guys. You’re the swellest.
So I guess that’s that. Either I have a gnat corpse in my brain juices or my body will soon be a mere vessel for a bug, a la Men in Black.
Wait. That’s a movie. They’ve already made a movie about this. I’ve been commandeered by a gnat that will lead to the eventual downfall of the human race and I’m too late to even have a movie made about me.
Son of a. ♣
P.S. It has recently come to my attention that several of my readers mistook my announcement last week that I would be embarking on a 365 this year to mean that I would be blogging 365 days a week about said experience as well. This is a falsehood. I am committed to working out every single day and to running a 10K this year. Isn’t that enough for you people?! Just kidding. But seriously, I can see the confusion. And honestly, I could use the accountability. So if you’d like updates about my Project Fat Ass 365, as explained in last week’s post, go to the top right side of this page and click the big button to follow me on Twitter, where I will Tweet my way to a 10K. I think it a fine compromise. Feel free to follow and harass me.
The Jackie Blog 
All this time I thought Fievel was an adorable Russian mouse whose manifest destiny was to travel west, but in actuality it was just a gnat whose manifest destiny was to die mercilessly in a pool of your own snot. At least he’s gnat your problem anymore.
PS I apologize for that last horrible insect pun.
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Horrible puns are encouraged.
It’s too bad the gnat wasn’t as musical as the mouse. Perhaps then I would have been more entertained that annoyed.
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Gnats are insidious little critters! Especially the ones that like to follow you around everywhere!
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It makes me feel rather unclean, but I swear I shower regularly.
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Good for you! I was wondering when your post-a-day was going to start! I like your little Fievel story. Like they used to say in writing class: write what you know. If you can write about a probable fruit fly for a whole column, the world is your oyster? Or something like that. Happy New Year!
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I was a bit disappointed to find that I had nothing of substance to write about except a gnat. But hey: you do what you can 😉
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A gnat?
Protip: Try bathing once in a while. 😛
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Jules, you’re the meanest.
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I nearly began laughing out loud at work when I read how he flew up your nostril. I just nearly snort-laughed my way to being insane (at least in appearance). Thank you 🙂 But seriously, thank you for the laugh. That was amazing.
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Oh lovely! I love snort laughs. 😉 Thanks for the compliment.
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Maybe it’s time to lose the rotting banana earrings, Jackie.
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But how else am I supposed to keep healthy snacks at the ready?
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Oh I love it…. I had my vry own Fievel last year – I honestly started to think I had fleas! Remembering a character from Snoopy
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I must admit I felt quite unclean. And aggravated. Very aggravated.
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It’s official! My cat post (cat bracelet included) has been scheduled for Feb. 14! Please contain your excitement.
Thank you.
:)) (only a double chin smiley face could show my excitement)
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It’s going to be difficult. I should note that I’ve acquired my first official cat paraphernalia in the form of knee-high cat socks, courtesy of Dave.
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Remember that crown wearing cat shirt you found and used in a post recently?
One day, I went to school and saw someone wearing it. JEALOUSY ensued.
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I would have died. How did you not die!? If you see that person again, get a picture. And ask them if they read my blog 😛
I should note that Dave just purchased me a pair of knee high cat-print socks.
…it’s my first piece of cat lady costumery. It’s all downhill from here.
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Reblogged this on Walk With A Witch and commented:
Oh my god, I’ve died laughing.
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