Fleas Flee

As I write this I am in a world of chemicals, my presence in this room is destructive on all other inhabitants and I feel like their nemesis. I am their reason, if not for living, but for their presence here, also I am now responsible for their deaths. Much as our universal position as humans is, I am acting as judge, jury and executioner on a small piece of god’s planet tonight, by his grace for my own selfish ends. My room has become infected by fleas and I have decided to do something about it after a ring of quite itchy bites appeared on my stomach. I feel quite guilty for killing the poor things, I suppose I brought it upon myself, I got rid of the spider’s webs, evicted the wasps and fraternised with the creatures that brought the fleas into contact with me in the first place, now I am the victim, which as a living creature, we hate being. I have turned the tables.

The flea’s culture probably now half expects an apocalypse of such a kind. Their prophets have been predicting Armageddon (the happening, not the place) for some time, confronted by a dismissive population. They refused to see the signs, that species around them had died out, their climate had changed and their environment which they had damaged too much of, was fighting back. Fleas have been through many apocalypses before and had to recover from them, but what if this is the one which none will survive? What will happen to the 100s that die, will they learn from the lessons about their environment, have I been affected too much by the flea poison? Am I over-analogising? I’ll let you decide.