In one corner of a long ago whitewashed room is a small table with a banana on it. Both banana and table are underneath a fly. The fly knows shape - nothing else. He thinks he’s sitting on a turd. The fly is not wrong because he has recently crapped on the banana.
A gunshot is heard and the dead fly tumbles to the table top. His shit remains on the yellow fruit, a monument to where he had been. A demure curly headed little girl sidles into the corner and without noticing the monument, lifts the banana from the table and shoves it up her ass.
These proceedings have been totally witnessed by God Almighty who puts it all down to Genesis and the governor of Mississippi Frogfart Pondodor who says, “What fly? I don’t see no fly.” Probably Governor Pondodor shot the fly.
Governor Pondodor and God Almighty are heard breaking into a chorus of “I shot the sheriff but I did not shoot him in the fly.”
The fly fails to see the humor in any of this because he is dead. But he is not dead because he had no sense of humor. He is dead because an assassin failed to see the human in a fly sitting on a banana.
Flies make people look like shit. They have many ways of doing this, the most common of course being hypnosis. They congregate in the morning and hypnotize each other toward this end. It’s a sort of fly humor. When you walk amidst flies feeling very godlike, swatting them as you go, have you never wondered why they keep trying to land on you?
In the days of Abraham Lincoln people knew how to leave pins sticking out of their butts.
Miss America or leave it. There was a time when people knew better than to leave pins sticking out of their butts. There was a time when spaceships ruled the toilets and submarines the sky. But no more. “The sky is underwater!” cried the fly. “How do I swim and keep me dry?”