Flies: A Novel

By Stark Hunter

Description of Flies


Flies is the story of an ostensibly demented resident of an insane asylum who goes by the name of Smythe. Smythes responsiblity at the Flick Institute for the Mentally Afflicted is to simply swat enough flies so that his OSC (Occupational Service Chart) can eventually be forwarded to the OAE (Office of Admissions and Exits) for parole consideration. The Flick Institute is a cold, evil microcosm of world society, replete with a universe of acronyms, murderous unethical staff workers, mysterious forbidden rooms, and unbelievably psychotic nightmares. It becomes obvious that Smythe hates the situation he is in and struggles to overcome not only the impossible red tape of the Flick Institute, but also the bizarre machinations of a rival flykiller by the name of Lyle Gond.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 14, 2005
• ISBN: 9781469111179

Book preview

Flies

A Novel

Stark Hunter

Copyright © 2005 by Stark Hunter.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

27985

Contents

Preface

Memo #1

Memo #2

Memo #3

Memo #4

Memo #5

Memo #6

Memo #7

Memo #8

Memo #9

Memo #10

Memo #11

Memo #12

Memo #13

Memo #14

Memo #15

Memo #16

Memo #17

Memo #18

Memo #19

Memo #20

Memo #21

Memo #22

Memo #23

Memo #24

Memo #25

Memo #26

Memo #27

Memo #28

Memo #29

Memo #30

Memo #31

Memo #32

Memo #33

Memo #34

Memo #35

Memo #36

Memo #37

Memo #38

Memo #39

Memo #40

Memo #41

Memo #42

Memo #43

Memo #44

Memo #45

Memo #46

Memo #47

Memo #48

Memo #49

Memo #50

Memo #51

Memo #52

Memo #53

Memo #54

Memo #55

Memo #56

Memo #57

Memo #58

Memo #59

Memo #60

Memo #61

Memo #62

Memo #63

Memo #64

Memo #65

Memo #66

Memo #67

Memo #68

Memo #69

Memo #70

Memo #71

Memo #72

Memo #73

Memo #74

Memo #75

Memo #76

This novel is dedicated to my wife and soulmate, Susan,

who has put up with my wild imagination for the past 26 years.

"I heard a fly buzz when I died;

The stillness in the room

Was like the stillness in the air

Between the heaves of storm.

The eyes around had wrung them dry,

And breaths were gathering firm

For that last onset, when the King

Be witnessed in the room.

I willed my keepsakes, signed away

What portion of me be

Assignable—and then it was

There interposed a fly,

With blue, uncertain, stumbling buzz,

Between the light and me;

And then the windows failed, and then

I could not see to see."

Emily Dickinson

Preface

Allegory—term applicable in any of the arts where the literal content of the work is subsidiary to its symbolic meaning. Concrete and material images are used to represent more abstract notions; thus death might be personified as a reaper…

—From The New American Desk Encyclopedia, 1984 edition

Stark Hunter

Memo #1

Good day Dr. Flick. I don’t know if you remember me or not, but my name is Smythe, (pronounced Sm- eye- th) and due to the fact that I was arrested recently for simply being me- an ex-hippie/ free soul lover of life and sexy women, I was involuntarily admitted to this institution just a fortnight ago. Upon signing the necessary papers at that time, I was immediately assigned to Dr. Hollingshead, chief psychiatric supervisor from wing-B, and thus began my indefinite stay here at the Flick Institute for the Mentally Afflicted. Your colleague, Dr. Hollingshead, has instructed me to write these medium length memos to you for reasons of therapy. All I have to do is write these every day and make absolutely sure they’re as honest as can possibly be. Believe me doctor, this will be a challenge, considering I’m a pathological liar in the first place. But alas, I’m game for anything, and after all, I’d like to improve my mental health to the point where I can be released back into society to lead a more liberated and productive lifestyle.

My present job at this institute is Fly Executioner-Class B. After scoring a passing grade of 82% on the Flick Institutional Service Exam, I was assigned by my supervisor, Dr. Hollingshead, to this Class-B position. According to our agreement, I am to be paid one dollar for every fly I successfully swat to death. Also in this agreement, it is stipulated that for every dollar I make, 2 points are to be added to my Occupational Service Chart (OSC), which will in turn be submitted at the end of the month to the Office of Admissions and Exits (OAE) for possible parole consideration.

I am 28 years old, white, 6 feet, 145 pounds and was graduated a few years back from Cortex University with a degree in English. My ambition in life is to write avant-garde novels and poems, and make love to two Asian women at the same time.

Before my admission to this institution I was a starving free lance novelist / English tutor with 4 unpublished novels and two poetry books occupying space on my desk shelf. But because of my acute failure to get these projects published, I evidently developed strange pychotic tendencies which left me in a state of confused perplexity as to what was real and not real, so much so, that I had problems eating my everyday regular meals. This in turn eventually brought me to the point of near starvation, for in my personal fantasies I was invariably feasting on turkey legs and dog livers with my entourage of nude Chinese girls. Of course, not one facet of my fantasy was true, but I didn’t realize this at the time, so in reality, I rarely consumed any real food at all. It got so bad that my concerned neighbors started rolling quarters and dimes under my apartment door to help me buy food. But as mentioned before, I had convinced myself that I had eaten too much already, so I took the quarters and dimes and spent them on the video games down at the Copacabana Arcade. I liked to go there because there are cute Asian girls there giggling like squirrels and bending over those arcade games. I love Asian female legs. Don’t you, doctor?.

It was there on a normal mundane evening two weeks ago that I allegedly had another psychotic episode, took off all my clothes and began to sing Strangers In The Night to this really fine-looking Chinese girl I had just met. After much screaming on her part, the police were summoned and they hit me on the head with a club. After that, the only thing I remember about it all was waking up in the police station the next morning wearing a police jacket over my nude body.

Well Doctor, that’s how I ended up here at your institution. Interesting, huh. By the way, are there any interesting Asian women here for me to meet?

Memo #2

Good afternoon Dr. Flick.

My fly execution job is agonizingly slow at present. I spent 6 hours this afternoon sitting in the giant Oak tree out front waiting for a fly to fly by. But to my complete exasperation, not even one single fly came my way. Damn the flies! They are my enemies!

I would now like to describe my instrument of death… my turquoise green fly swatter. It is approximately two feet long and is spanking brand new. It was given to me just last week by my supervisor, Dr. Hollingshead. At the time, I was sitting out in the Flick gazebo composing poems on death and sex, when the doctor approached me with the good news.

You passed Smythe, he joyfully exlaimed, You got an 82%. You’re hired!

Of course I was deliriously happy to be given this somewhat responsible position, and I was even more ecstatic to receive a new fly swatter in the process.

But I’m sorry to report that after 6 days on the job, I haven’t swatted one single fly yet.

Damn the flies! Damnation to all of them!

Memo #3

Hello Dr. Flick. Just before supper this evening Dr. Hollingshead came out of his office and walked over to my oak tree lookout tower to see how I was doing.

Hello Smythe, he greeted me, having any luck today?

I’m afraid not Doc, I sadly replied, not one damn fly.

Then he said: