LOW FLOW & NO PLACE "TO GO"

We here in the Pacific Northwest live green lives.
Lives that, unfortunately, mean low-flow ----what you see above.
VERY low flow.
After the horrific trauma of mom's consumation of The Fly We Loved, an emergency call was made to Maintenance.
Not just for our unit.
She had even broken the one downstairs open to the Public.
Two, count two. Since maintenance confiscated the
Remains of the Fly
we were not able to hold a proper service to process
the profound grief we all felt...
Mom wanted to ask the maintenance man if...
WE REQUESTED SHE NOT!
We like living here.
All we can say is that the fly took out two low-flow
(you know's) with him. He would have made a fine
soldier, that one. We  miss him.
We think he was a Special Ops Fly, since he
was training, in caffeine, on Sea, Land, and the
NEVERWORLD of mom's...you know.
A SEAL Fly. A Special Fly.
Who will always be remembered every time the
not the-brightest-bulb in the pack maintenance man
asks mom: "Did anything unusual drop in there?"
We feel relatively confident he will
NEVER ASK HER THAT AGAIN.

In the immortal words of Jack Nicholson from the film
"A Few Good Flies"

"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

Indeed.