I guess they’re fruit flies—or perhaps gnats; though, I prefer the former as it allows me to fantasize about sharing my shower space with a far more interesting species. Just the name, fruit fly, carries the kind of implicated sophistication that could only sit with a group dedicated to the sweet and nutritious value of apples and bananas. As a fruit fly, you’d be invited to all the swankest parties, and with such high profile appeal, you would always be expected without an invitation. Gnats, on the other hand, probably take a nosedive when it comes to the social scene—where stories of hanging around pig farms and cattle stockades crash and burn like the plane of a blind pilot. But, I’m a snob like that; even when it comes to subspecies, I like to rub elbows with the best.
As often the story goes, it all started out with just one. And, though I wasn’t thrilled about having a roommate, I had reached complacency almost immediately after relinquishing any such motives to end our cohabitation. The fruit fly would live in my shower, and I would embrace it.
Later on it became clear that word got out about free room-and-board over at my place, and each showering session found me greeted by more members of the gang. The number of tenants in my shower numbered to about 20 before I stepped through folding door muttering, “Uhh…hey come on now guys… 20’s a crowd, right?” They ignored me.
Most of the time it doesn’t bother me so much—until the water and electric bills come in, which then prompts me to think about hitting them up for money. But, right when I finally muster up the courage to demand compensation for my expenditures, I lose nerve and opt for a more passive aggressive move, calling out to the closed shower door between us, “time to get a job guys…”
But it’s no use; my calls are unrequited. And so, while wallowing in the spite of their silence, I often mouth a secret longing for the gnats down at the pig farms, down the cattle stockades—where showers are scarce and thus much more likely to be appreciated.