This morning I found my husband running around in the bedroom with a towel in his hand swatting at a rather large fly.
"I'm going to get you!" he shouted at the fly.
I went into the bathroom to put in my contacts. The fly followed me and so did my towel-wielding husband.
"Stop Billy Bob. Stop right now so I can kill you!"
I looked at my husband quizically. "You named the fly Billy Bob?"
"Yep. And Billy Bob is going to die."
The chase continued with various things flying off of the counter as the towel came down.
Finally, the fly was cornered in the shower where he met his demise and was promptly rinsed down the drain.
So here's to the fly who flew high until my husband decided he should die. Rest in Peace Billy Bob.
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