Flies are gross and smart people are depressing

I had a conversation with my friend Adam the other day. Adam’s basically a genius in all the ways I’m not. Not only does he have an expert understanding of all the sciences, including physics, chemistry, and biology, but he’s also good with “tact”, “diligence” and “humility” and “maths”, three arenas in which I am miserably inadequate.

(Does admitting my inadequacy negate the “humility” one? If it does, does that make it only three inadequacies, making my count correct and thereby negating the “maths” one? Does that make it only two, and if so, do I have to put the maths one back in and create a paradox? My brain hurts.)

I said, “You know what really pisses me off?”

“The fact that they’re not making Futurama anymore?” Adam suggested.

“Flies,” I said. “Flies drive me nuts. Mosquitoes I’m okay with, but flies? Can’t stand them.”

Adam asked, “Worse than mosquitos? How come?”

“With mosquitoes, right,” I began, “they need blood. I have blood. So there’s a transaction taking place. I don’t want them to take my blood, and I’ll slap at them if I see them, but I can’t hold it against them.”

“With you so far,” Adam said.

“Whereas flies are wasting their time, and mine.” A fly landed on my cheek, and I brushed it off. “They’re not getting anything from me. There are dead bodies out there that they could be helping decompose, but they’re too dumb to see that I’m not going to be useful to them for another forty or fifty years.”

“Actually,” Adam replied, “they’re feeding off you quite successfully. They vomit on you, then eat the vomit, which has absorbed valuable nutrients from your skin.”

“Gaaa!” I started thrashing around like I’d walked into a spiderweb, desperately trying to get these many-eyed bulimic monsters off my body.

Adam waited patiently for me to get tired, realise the flies would keep coming back, and give up. I didn’t keep him waiting long.

“I was happier before we had this conversation,” I said.

“I’m okay with it,” he replied.

I guess my point is, don’t talk to geniuses. You never know when you’re going to learn something that’ll make you’re life slightly worse.

Geniuses? Or is it geniusis? Geniusi? I’d better call Adam and ask him.