Which, at the time of course, looked like this:
|This thing was IN MY MOUTH you guys. For real.|
So of course my initial reaction was to scream - this high-pitched short-lived scream which was mistaken for a sneeze by one of my coworkers. I corrected her while continuously horking and spitting into the garbage, trying to rid myself of the fly's vomit which I was sure was infecting my mouth as we spoke. When I felt like anymore spitting would result in the release of my own bile, I called it quits and moved on to tactic #2 - gum. Piece after piece after piece of gum was devoured until I had a wad of it so big it put a jawbreaker to shame. I figured this would tide me over until I could get home and brush my teeth, but even then, I was sure that unless I used a strong bleach mixture, my mouth was never going to feel clean again.
Unfortunately, I was right. This fly has scarred me from water which I think was it's master-plan all along. The fly must've been perched somewhere around my workspace, plotting how he was going to take me out. He knew that even if he were to vomit and defecate his little heart out all over my taste-buds, he alone may not be enough to make me violently ill and ultimately cause my demise. On his own little kamikaze mission he plunged himself into the shadows of my water bottle, knowing that as soon as I discovered a fly in my water, I would never want to drink water again and would die of dehydration. Either that or he was hoping to survive and lay eggs in my stomach for his little maggoty larvae to eat me from the inside out. Either way, he has successfully managed to alter my drinking habits, and I'm sure that if he were alive today, he would tell you that this pleases him. (Now would be the time that I would point out that he's not alive today because I drank the little fucker!). Was it worth it Mr. Fly?