Flies
By Yuan Qiongqiong
Translated by Peter T. Morris
He rang home. She answered, and as she was speaking, he heard a “smack” from her end of the line.
“What’s that?”, he asked.
“Flies! One landed on my face. I tried to swat it but I missed.”
“There’re still a lot of flies, then?”
“Yes. More than yesterday.”
He was away on a business trip for three days. The first day he rang her at home she had told him that a lot of flies had come into the house. All she could say was, “Lots and lots of them. They’re all over the place.”
But he could not figure out why. After all, she was so keen on cleanliness; everything in the house was always immaculately clean. Seldom if ever were there any flies; well, perhaps one or two at most.
“Maybe you didn’t tie the rubbish bag properly.”