Even as I write, they circle overhead like vultures. I don’t know if there will be an end to this. I do know my wits are at their frayed end, and that may be the only end in sight. It all began a few weeks ago.

I should probably start with some background information. I am a single man nearing 40 living by myself in a bachelor’s apartment. And, yes, I probably fit into the male stereotype of “messy,” of leaving dirty dishes till the next day and letting the laundry pile up. And, yes, I have two laundry piles: a dirty dirty pile and yeah-I-could-probably-wear-that-again pile.

However, I made a mistake so heinous it makes me want to repent my messy ways and be a better man. About two weeks ago, I left for the weekend without taking out the garbage. It wasn’t full enough to take out, at least that was my excuse. Upon my return, I found my apartment visited by that most troubling of menaces – FRUIT FLIES. I can’t even guess at their numbers. Too many to count, but somewhere between a horde and an apocalyptic black cloud. If I didn’t do something soon, their numbers would get even stronger. My imagination ran wild and I pictured them as a biblical plague of black insects descending upon the Egypt of my apartment. I have an overactive imagination, but if I didn’t do something soon, I feared that it would become a reality.

This is the story of a man at war with fruit flies – with tips and tricks you can use, even with your smaller brawls with the tiny black nuisances.

Tip #1: Clean

I started by taking out the garbage they were so fond of. Even with the drawstrings closed, the evil bugs buzzed around the tall kitchen bag as I took it to the dumpster. One flew into my face.

I scrubbed the kitchen sink and the counters with the fury of a man on a mission. And, because I was on a cleaning kick and motivated, which never happens, I poured everything I had into that rare impulse and gave the whole apartment a once over.

Tip #2: Remove food sources.

I removed all fruit from the apartment. Fruit, after all, is right there in their name. Taking away the fruit wasn’t much of a problem, because, as a free-spirited, independent, modern man who’s not particularly health conscious, I don’t eat fruits or vegetables. The tomato sauce on my pizza is all the fruits and veggies I need.

Tip #3: Simple, natural remedies

It’s probably a good time to tell you that I’m a nice guy. I’m a kind man who didn’t want to chemically poison all stupid, mindless fruit flies. They’re animals after all, God’s creatures. I remembered that dalliance I had with Buddhism during lockdown. It didn’t take, but I wanted something to kill them kindly. A quick Google search revealed a few promising methods: apple cider vinegar and water, lemon juice and dawn dish soap, and water with lemon seeds.

I put out bowls of each of the three mixtures and see which was more successful. I checked back the next day and they each had a few black specks in them, putting barely a dent in the overall population.

Furious, I put more and more bowls of the naturalistic potions, until every surface in the kitchen was occupied by bowls and cups of the stuff. Still, the concoctions only drowned a few flies. I felt betrayed. I’d tried to be kind and Buddhist-like to the fruit flies and was left with a knife sticking out of my back.

Nothing was working, and, to make matters worse, the flies had been reproducing. My worst fear had become a reality. The plague was upon me. They invaded and occupied the bathroom, drawn to the toilet water and water droplets in the shower. They were on the window. They were by the bed. They were even in the closet for some reason. I found one in my morning coffee. Disgusting. I’d lost all hope. The black specks were everywhere.

I felt like waving the white flag. I had ceded my sovereignty over to the flies. I was paying the rent, but this was their apartment now. I felt defeated. Could I move apartments? No, I’d have to break the lease. No way out. A dark day. The sun had been blocked out by a cloud of fruit flies.

Finally, depression and defeat gave way to anger. I focused on the emotion until I was filled with it. Rage, rage against the insects. This was now a mission of revenge. Damn the apple cider vinegar. Damn the Buddhism. This was the time for drastic measures. I needed ammunition and I needed help. I’d go to Rollier’s, the local hardware store a few blocks away, and seek professional guidance.

I went to the insect killer section and consulted with Leah, a very nice and knowledgeable employee. I told her I wanted the good stuff. No more apple cider vinegar. I wanted harsh, industrial chemicals. If you could still buy DDT, I would’ve used that.

She recommended:

1. Flypaper
2. A fruit fly trap – a small, pink cylindrical container with holes in it. You fill it up with the fly juice and the flies get stuck inside.
3. Raid – Leah was skeptical to give me something so powerful for just fruit flies, but, after my insistence, she gave me the big guns. The spray canister was listed for indoor and outdoor use and on the insects section of the instructions, it was rated to kill just about anything that flew or creeped.

I went home and set up shop in the kitchen. I set my purchases on the kitchen table. I stood in front of it for maybe five minutes, looking at the flies. I wanted them to see me. More than that I wanted them to see my tools of mass destruction. I wanted them to be afraid. I felt like a military dictator having a parade to show my strength.

I sprayed the garbage. I put out the pink cylinder trap. I nailed up the flypaper right above the sink. I wouldn’t lose this time. After about a day, I saw that the pink trap was effective but not big enough for these numbers. The fly paper worked, but soon the bugs seemed catch wise to it and knew it was bad for them. But the spray killed any fly I could hit with it.

Soon, I began setting traps for them. I’d leave out a slice of tomato on a plate and just wait. When enough flies had gathered, I’d hit them with the spray. It went on like this. This was war now.

It went on like this for some time. Their numbers dwindled and dwindled down. There were only a few left, but they were getting smarter. Then, it happened. The temperature dipped into the 60s and 50s for a few days. I can’t explain it, but the cold eradicated them. The last few were gone, and I now knew victory.

Thinking back on it, and writing it now, it’s quite a tale. A man driven to the brink of insanity by a common household fly. But now I know what to do next summer when they come back.