Val Has the Pheromones of a Fly, Or Perhaps Possesses the Aroma of a Rotting Carcass

A fly came to my lair today
After a phone call, and I so late to hit the keyboard,
To taunt me.

In my dark, dark basement lair, at the corner countertop
I sat down in front of New Delly
And was buzzed, yes I was buzzed, but not in a way that brings
pleasure

He zoomed in from the left side of my office in the gloom
And zipped his silken-winged gossamer self right past the end of
my nose tip
And made a return to land on the bright screen,
And where his hairy legs blocked out my view, he rubbed his fly hands
In a show of fly glee,
Laughed at me through his fly gums, shaking his black fly body,
Silently.

Okay. Enough plagiarizing by Val Thevictorian. That's what happens when she runs out of original ideas, and can't concentrate because a fly that should be out sitting on poop and crawling on rotting carcasses invades her dark basement lair and makes her overexert herself waving her arms frantically about her head.

I'm pretty sure Hick let him in.