Ward of the Flies

Because we happen to have a dead mouse rotting in our wall, the flies seem to be able to smell it from outside and at the slightest opening of any door, they rush in by the dozen.  The baker's dozen.  As if the smell of a dead mouse weren't enough to my uber-sensitive pregnant nostrils, we have to add nasty little poop eating, maggot laying, flies into the equation.  Here is a snippet of a conversation I had with Jeremy recently regarding this matter:

Me: Jeremy, you need to go on a mad crazy fly massacre.

Ellie: Kill the buggies, Daddy!

Me: (As Jeremy is deftly killing two at a time in mid air) I HATE flies, I HATE them worse than cockroaches.  I would rather have cockroaches right now than these damn flies.  At least roaches have the decency to run away when you enter the room.

Jeremy: Yeah, but it's that ballsiness that I kind of admire about the flies.  They got Moxie.  They'll do a kamikaze fly by right in front of the swatter.  Roaches are just chickens.  Flies have balls.

Ellie: Flies have paws

Me: Yeah, I guess you're right, but I STILL hate the flies.  And you ARE going to clean up that one you just smeared across the window right?

Jeremy: No, he's staying there as a warning to any of his buddies who dare to enter.  THIS MAY HAPPEN TO YOU.

Me: Ummmmm, you're cleaning that up RIGHT?