Creature Features Part 2

The Fly That Wouldn’t Die

A few months after his business went bust,

And a long time after his truck turned to rust,

Gnu went to bed and tucked himself in

After polishing off a bottle of Gordon’s fine gin.

Buzz-Ard and Tur-Tel caused his business to topple

And ever since then he’d been hitting the bottle.

Each night he collapsed into his bed in a heap –

The Gordon’s was the only thing that sent him to sleep.

But then all of a sudden on one rainy night

Gnu woke from his sleep in a terrible fright

But what was the cause of this sudden fear?

Well, a fly had just dive-bombed into his ear.

Now, all Gnu wanted was to go back to sleep

So he pulled up his Tesco duvet and began to count sheep,

But the fly was still buzzing, as Gnu opened one eye

And said, “If I want some sleep, then that fly must die.”

The fly wanted to fly, because that’s what flies do,

He wanted to swoop and cry “Hot Diggedy Doo!”

He wasn’t bothered that Gnu was tired;

He was only doing what he desired.

Gnu switched on the light and said “That fly’s going to pay.”

And he picked up a can of Vitalis hair spray.

He pressed down the button and quick as a flash

The fly did a loop and hit the floor with a crash.

“Serves him right, said Gnu,

“Now to count some sheep;

Now to close my eyes again

And try and get some sleep.

“Buzz . . . buzz . . . buzz,” went the fly,

“Look Mr Gnu, I didn’t really die.

I bet you thought you were really clever;

And so just for that I’m going to buzz louder than ever.”

Gnu thought it was over, but after a while

The fly swooped back into his ear like a guided missile.

“Will this night ever end,” Gnu said with a whimper,

“If I don’t get some sleep I’ll be in a terrible temper.”

But the fly wouldn’t stop – it kept buzzing and swooping;

It flew round and around – diving and looping.

It had come into the house to get out of the rain,

And was now driving Gnu completely insane.

“That’s it! That’s the end! That’s enough of this caper!”

Gnu cried as he reached for a rolled-up newspaper.

He leapt out of bed and with a swing that went downward

Whacked the fly on its head with the Evening Standard.

“Serves him right,” said Gnu,

“He’s learned the power of the press.

Now I’ll close up my eyes

And get rid of this stress.”

“Buzz . . . buzz . . . buzz,” went the fly.

“Look Mr Gnu, I didn’t really die.

I bet you thought you were really clever;

But now I’m well-read I’ll buzz louder than ever.”

“Oh no, not again,” said Gnu, starting to cry,

“He’s like Curtis Mayfield on Epic Records – a super-fly?

There’s only one thing for it,” he said with intent,

“I’ll have to go downstairs for the insect repellent.”

Gnu charged down the stairs at a terrible rate,

For to get back to sleep he must seal this fly’s fate.

He grabbed the Boots Repel and shot up the stairs

To spray the lethal mist and catch the fly unawares.

He sprayed into his newly decorated room –

The carpet was from Malkin’s, made on a loom.

The dresser was from Ashley, the bed from IKEA

And the wardrobe was from – well, actually, I’ve got no idea.

He waited in the hall until the air was clear,

And when the buzzing stopped he let out a cheer.

“I can lie back down now on my bedroom feature;

Because that should have fixed that infernal creature.

Serves him right,” said Gnu,

“He’s learned all about gas.

Now to go back to bed

For some sleep to amass.”

“Buzz . . . buzz . . . buzz,” went the fly.

“Look Mr Gnu, I didn’t really die.

I bet you thought you were really clever;

But when I take off my gas mask I’m going to buzz louder than ever.

I must take a break here and extend my apologies

For this poem and its excess of products and accessories.

I didn’t think it through and it was never my intent

To pad it all out with so much product placement.

So, I’ll get on with this story of Mr Gnu

Without mentioning more products, if that’s alright by you.

But before I start up I need to go for a pee,

And then I think I’ll have a nice cup of Whittard’s coffee.

“I can’t stand it any more. This is driving me mad!

This fly,” screamed Gnu, “is an absolute cad!

There’s only one way to get rid of this sprite,

And that’s to blow it to pieces with dynamite.”

He ran down the stairs to cupboard under the sink.

“Hmm, this is where I last put the dynamite, I think,”

He said to himself as he fished in the cupboard

For the explosive that would blow the pesky fly heavenward.

“Here it is,” cried Gnu, trembling with glory,

The dynamite (that was placed there for the sake of this story).

He rushed back up the stairs with the fuse already lit

And opened the door, but before he could throw it . . .

BOOM!

And Gnu was blown all over the room.

The roof of the house flew up in the sky

And disappeared from view, it travelled so high.

What was left of Gnu was gathered together

And dropped in a bag that was made out of leather

The bag was placed in a wickerwork basket,

Which was then sealed up in a mahogany casket.

“Serves him right,” said a mourner,

“For jealously guarding his bed,

Because now, like that fly,

He is really quite dead.”

But after he was buried, on a cold and wet night,

Something was happening that wasn’t quite right –

The remains of Gnu were interred underground,

And inside his casket came a familiar sound.

“Buzz . . . buzz . . . buzz,” went the fly.

“Look Mr Gnu, I didn’t die.

And now I can buzz loudly for ever and ever

Because after all that it was me who was clever.”

Next week: The Lizard’s Dislike of Gizzards