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I recall with the clarity of a terminal disease the dreadful day I learned of my best friend Herman's death. I was hanging laundry in the warm spring sun, our old clothesline had started to fray and I wondered how the soldiers of Desert Storm were fairing in the battle for democracy. That's when the telephone intruded into my consciousness. And you know. One just knows. That ring was the kind of ring one only hears at two a.m. when your child hasn't returned for his ten o'clock curfew. I was then recanted the story as my head filled with the terror of an everyday world for such delicate creatures as my most beloved friend Herman. I passed out and lay in a state of comatose delusion for three days afterwards. Herman's life was just one of many whose life was cut short that day by a bored housewife with a fly swatter. Please donate money to Save the Houseflies Worldwide and put an end to these murderous devices of torture. Don't let your best friend be another Herman.
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