FRANK THE WORLD’S MOST INTELLIGENT BLOWFLY

frank the fly

I was film noir daydreaming when I first saw him
and what I shall say is surreal yet no lie
for I am now about to impart to you
the Tale of Frank the World’s Most Intelligent Blowfly
 
Initially I didn’t take to Frank much
when he turned up in our kitchen in La Belle France
what with him dive bombing the food I’d been preparing
and landing upon some to do his flash EDM dance
 
Indeed, I hated Frank so very much
the bloody nuisance that he had now become
I even went out and purchased a fly swatter
even had procured for him a poisoned crumb
 
Yet tenacious was our little wicked Frankie
he never once fell for my cunning schemes
but I kept on planning his demise
when awake and also in my dreams
 
Then one day I spotted the buzzing blighter
watching me intently and right up close
studying each and every move I made
him aloof in a state of some calm repose
 
You see he’d crawled out from under the toaster
as I was to discover he did everyday
for underneath that rekindling bread machine
was his home where he’d go think, rest and play
 
One day a rival blowfly flew in
no doubt seeking to usurp Frank’s esteemed place
yet Frank he was having none of it at all
and away the oppressor Frank did chase
 
In the lounge upon one early evening
as I was in the deepest train of thought
pondering over a new poem I might write
when over to me came Frank, now quite distraught
 
Noticing he was looking the worse for wear
I wondered how this could be so
until he led me to a galley work surface
Ah! It was then I got to know
 
For Frank had not long previous
found the merest splatter of red wine
clearly drunk the lot and got quite pissed
and now reckoned he’d have some of mine!
 
“You’ve got a bloody cheek Frank the blowfly
You bloody freeloading Dipteran”
still how could I deny Frank his bit of pleasure
and thus it was our friendship really began
 
I spilled just a drop of my Burgundy
upon the drying stain of the booze Frank had overlooked
at the sight of this and as happy as Larry
it became clear that on alcohol Frank was hooked
 
We soon became the greatest of buddies
he would follow me about everywhere
and when watching TV (albeit in French)
he’d sit with me on the arm of my rocking chair
 
Yet all good things must end it is so true
and the day came when we had to return
to our real home back in Olde Blighty
and thus it was I left him a saucer of chilled Sauterne
 
At this Frank was most delighted
I could see it in his omnipotent compound eyes
with a nod and a wink he bade me a fond farewell
Did Frank, the buzzing blowfly oh so wise

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34 thoughts on “FRANK THE WORLD’S MOST INTELLIGENT BLOWFLY

    1. Me! Ruin his life! Frank is French, they all quaff wine over there. However I fear for a fly I spotted on the Eurotunnel train recently…you see I couldn’t work out if he/she embarked from France or England and am so concerned he/she might never get back to their home.

  1. At first this piece reminded me of Poe’s The Raven, but yours is much nicer. Perhaps if Poe had gotten the raven tipsy they might have had a more congenial relationship. Quite enjoyed this.

      1. My grandmother always said one can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. I suppose the same is true of good liquor. My question was always, why would I want to catch flies?

      2. Frank befriended me. He entered the gite we rented when Shirl and I were out and about and our youngest George (who’d tagged along on a freebie) was composing something on his guitar – much to George’s annoyance. When we returned G pointed out that we had a really intelligent fly in the house so ‘respect’ to the blowfly. Shirl thinks Frank only stayed with us because I’d purchased and left to ripen some amazingly smelly yet very tasty French cheeses.

      1. Svetlana comes from Transylvania and dances the gypsy dance…in my dreams of course…could be a skit in this if I can sneak away out of this sling a little longer!

  2. Obviously Frank has rank in his name because flys rank, rank shit quite highly amongst other things. A remarkable tail Mike, with minimal shit. Yet another thing flys enjoy

    1. I thing it was my ripe, smelly French cheeses (I adore them, others less so) that attracted Frank…this tale was from September and I often wonder how Frank is getting on. On a different subject did you know centuries and centuries under the reign of Henry I there was a baron come colleague of the King called ‘Wizo the Flem’ – true that is!

      1. Nope, I don’t know much unless people tell me and even then I tend to forget after they have told me. Thank you for telling me about Wizo the Flem, even though I am unsure if it will help me, and my day with my right hand and JUST.

      2. Yes, it does just that. Rests. It also has less orange from the prawn shells on it, due to less usage

      3. Wizo the Flem! Hahahahaha. That’s a fine gem to know Mike *tucks it under her beret*. I’m glad you and Frank became friends, a fly can get very bad press due to the shit connection/facts. Having said that, the gormless should be wary, collecting them in one’s gob isn’t advisable.

        – esme the wise upon the Cloud

      4. Frank was a ‘one-off’ I reckon. Also if my memory serves me well (I’ve not a great memory at the best of times) Wizo heralded from the South West…best I Google that I think!

  3. Ha, ha… loved it! Man, I need to start coming here everyday for my grins 🙂 I never seem to have time anymore to wander wordpress like I should. Saturdays seem a little slower … but I’m going to make a point of it, Mike. I see you changed your look and feel again… stir the pot!

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