I forgot to mention the other day that Fred is still alive! GAH! He's alive! My mother said she saw him in the bathroom the other day! You cannot even believe how excited I was upon the discovery of this fact. This, in turn, became stressing as my brother said if he saw Fred that he would kill him immediately. It is now my duty to seek out Fred and set him free outside. I will search endlessly this morning while showering and changing and what not in the bathroom. It is my duty to set Fred back out into the wild. Fred will live and breathe and be free! FREE! (Yes I know there is a possibility that this isn't Fred and most likely isn't Fred, but it still makes me happy so I think it's a good thing.)

Thinking of Fred got me thinking of my friend Lisa and her flies. haha. Lisa cannot kill flies. She refuses to squish them between a tissue in her fingers. So you know what she does instead? She places a jar of some sort over top of the fly on the floor or wherever the poor sucker may be and she slowly suffocates the thing to death. Now I ask you, what do you think is worse: being killed quickly or being killed slowly and drawn out to the point where pain is more than just a delusion?
Lisa seems to think that a slow death is the better one. Or at least she cannot bring herself to squish a fly so she tortures it to death. How totally and utterly bizarre is that? In a way I think it is cool that my friend has this strange idiosyncrasy, but in another way I feel for the flies. The flies that endlessly suffer because of her strange habit. Lord, she is a weird one she is. That's why I like her, though.