I have two guinea pigs. Guinea pigs are supposedly self-cleaning, but my guineas are dumb even by the standards for the species and they have a bad habit of peeing on each other. (They are also afraid of the floor... but I digress.) As a result, they occasionally bring in houseflies that are enticed by their intoxicating excretions. We don't have any hooks in our bedroom, so my boyfriend slipped a piece of flypaper onto a pen and hung it from our ceiling light. This is because we are adults who do classy, adult things. The ceiling light is right over my half of the bed.
For two days, I had a series of close calls. I'd hop out of bed, find flypaper two inches from my face, and jump backwards in alarm.
You read the title, so I think you can see where this is going.
I decided to take a nap. Naps are excellent, but when you wake up from a nap, you have no idea what is going on. You are one drowsy motherfucker. I stood up and bonked my forehead against the flypaper. Because it was insecurely fascinated, the entire piece fell onto my head, wrapping around my hair, which was tied in a messy bun.
"No, no, it's fine! It will totally come out."
"DISHONOR ON YOU. DISHONOR ON YOUR COW."
He grabbed the edge of the flypaper and tried to rip it out of my hair. The problem (as if there was only one) was: this wasn't precautionary flypaper. We actually had flies. As he pulled the flypaper away from my head, the bodies of the flies began to rip apart, leaving hunks of dead housefly body strewn throughout my hair.
"WHY DO BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE. AHHHHHH!"
He finally got the flypaper off of my head. It had been a true exchange. The flypaper had left with huge chunks of my hair. I left with a head that looked and felt like it had been dipped in honey and the corpses of insects that were only in my house due to their deep appreciation for pet urine.
"Are you crying, Robyn?"
"THIS IS TRAUMATIC."
I managed to pull my hairtie down.
"See? Your hair isn't ruined at all!"
The thick layer of goop that had penetrated the floofy, untucked part of my bun, however, was unsalvageable. I took a pair of scissors and snipped off the bottom inch and a half of my hair. Next came a weepy shower that yielded an important piece of data: 3. If you get flypaper in your hair, you will need to wash your hair three times before the stickiness finally rinses out. So now you know.
|A look of post-shower contentment.|