Foiled Assassination #1

This past week was a little rough. I've certainly had worse, but one annoyance after another seemed to sprout out at me like moths to a flame, and the only thing I could do was sigh and wonder "is it over?". Wednesday morning was particularly irritating, but by the end of the workday there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The sweet taste of a victory was consuming my senses which for one reason or another, made me feel a little parched. I had already shut down my computer and had my purse and lunch bag thrown over my shoulder when I decided that one last swig of my water bottle would be satisfying. I pick up the aluminum bottle, brought the small opening to my lips and threw my head back, guiding the water bottle along the same path so that water could flow freely into my mouth. Hmmm. What is this solid I feel amidst the cool, refreshing water? I quickly reviewed the last five minutes of my life to see if I had eaten something, anything that would have maybe left a little piece of itself in a tooth. Nothing. Knowing that I wasn't going to be swallowing anything in my mouth until I knew what that solid was, I cupped my hand infront of my face and spat everything I had into it, to discover this:

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?