The zombie fly – the fly that could not die!

Much kerfuffle in the home last night as the younger members of the tribe confused a fly with a wasp and started to sprint around the house, panicking as if an alien invasion was beginning. This was no normal fly, we faced, however. This was the Rambo of flies. This was the fly that has been waiting patiently for World War Three to break out just so it claim the prize of the last life-form on Earth to survive radioactive armageddon.

The fierce insect managed to shrug off multiple attacks . . . including direct hits with a swatter purchased from Pound Land, chemical warfare agents intended to massacre squadrons of wasps, rolled-up newspapers and even evaded capture with our handy patented Spider Catcher device. Finally, a bruising encounter with an edition of China Mieville’s Kraken sent it spinning dazed and dead into a bookshelf, where it was safely recovered and its corpse tossed into the toilet.

The zombie fly - the fly that could not die!
NOT the fly we faced that terrible night.

However, the winged warrior’s arrogance knew no bounds, and even dead, decided to give the one finger (claw?) salute to humanity by refusing to be flushed down the bog. Twice it resisted the floods of water trying to eject its noble dead form into the sewage system.

Finally, one young member of the tribe could resist the urge of nature no more and mounted the porcelain throne. That was when the fly, presumably infected with a similar disease to the virus last seen in The Walking Dead, decided to rise soggen from its watery/urine grave. Said clan member was then pursued screaming by the wet zombie fly into a bedroom, where the monster was decapitated – or possibly flattened – by a stalwart young defender wielding a heavy volume entitled DC Showcase: Legion of Super-Heroes 1 (reprints 1958-1964).

Faced with the combined compendium of our species’ mightest defenders – Cosmic Boy, Saturn Girl, Lightning Boy etc., even the zombie fly finally had to admit defeat. Reader, we interred its body in a couple of sheets of pristine white toilet paper and laid its body out on the waters afresh. This time, placated by our honour to its last battle, it went off finally to the halls of its ancestors. We will never meet its like again.

THIS IS A TRUE STORY. The events depicted took place in London in 2014. At the request of the survivors, the names have been changed. Out of the respect for the dead, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred.




I am an author of various fantasy, science fiction, crime and other genre books from Gollancz, Hachette and HarperCollins. Some day I hope to grow up and be an astronaut. Exploring Mars would be nice.

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