Thursday, November 10, 2011

Uh Oh...

A few nights ago, while I was playing Dr. Kevorkian to my burgeoning fruit fly colony, I had a disturbing thought:

What if I've got it wrong?

What if, instead of extinguishing the colony, I'm culling the herd?

What if the fruit flies who haven't been sucked in to that oh-so-tempting styrofoam cup of nectar are somehow genetically superior to their stupider and now dead counterparts?  Have I become responsible for the genesis of a generation of Super Flies, unswayed by the scent of something sweet, able to land on a bubble without being trapped?

I stewed on that for a few days.  Exclusively.  It was all I thought about.

No.  Hell, no.  Of course it wasn't all I thought about.  Yeah, it crossed my mind a few times, whenever I entered the bathroom and saw the damn things congregating on the mirror.

So I tried a little experiment.  Rinsed out the cup (Yes, I paused a moment to honor the fallen.  Not.).  Added a squirt of soap.  Filled it with a couple of inches of water.  Set it on the counter to see what would happen.

A few hours later, there were five flies, belly up, at the bottom of the cup.

Conclusion:  fruit flies are stupid.  All that worry about culling the herd for nothing.

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