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Voice Of Youth. I
It Shouidn't Happen To A Dig
It was midnight and I Was giving a trigonometry problem my undivided attention. Ih had been one of those days in which I had^rush' ed all day and accomplished exact7 Jy nothing. I was tired, sleepy, and in a foul mood, nevertheless working madly.' -Suddenly something swooped down in fron^ of my book, ascended slowly to, *ye level, and buzzed unconcernedly around my head. It continued its distracting tactics for several minutes. Although % had nothing personal against this fly, beany fly for" that matter, i knew thaThe had to go. ^ ' 1 dragged my weary body from the bed and decended the stairs without much grace. After wasted ■v minutes of searching^ I found the swvatter in a very obvious place, i returned, smiling with anticipation for that fly had been very annoying; therefore he was doomed to die. Apencil in one hand, and my4 wc?p6o in the other, I again start“ieiTthe trig. -• v *
Almost immediately my unsuspecting victim was back in circuU^ tion. I quietly laid my pencl down and transferred the swatter to my right hind. The chase was on! The little pest few and flew, while my aching head began to swan.'Final- ; ly he landed_-.on the edge pi a. glass. I swung yvildly, missed thjt i fly, but not the glass. As I was ^ . clearing away the remains of theglass, my little friend sailed into/
the air, cruised happily around aiyj head, and lit ifpon inj* forehead.
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