Papyrus 3, Page 19

Snake Bird Box Box Spells Apep.

Things are about to get a bit colourful in art and story!

This past week has been a whirl! I drew a little comic about my troubles:

Pictured in this comic are myself, my grandfather, grandmother, and uncle.
On Saturday I found and buried a dead sparrow. Well not so much buried as "picked up with a leaf and put deep in a bush." But the point was to get it out of the sidewalk so that no one would step on it. Here in DC, people tend to do things like step on dead birds without noticing. Poor little thing. On Sunday and Monday, my Egyptian ties were proven by a visiting plague of flies on my family. We were trying to watch a Bollywood movie (amazingly one without song and dance scenes) when THEY CAME. Normally, I don't like killing bugs, or Zalgo Flies. I save all sorts of beetles, weevils, and spiders that crawl into my room, bringing them outside instead of squishing them. But Flies you just have to kill, because they will just fly back and eat your food and lay eggs and so on. As a result I am a saviour of spiders and some superpowered scourge of flies, with mad "catch them in a kleenex" skills. The straw that broke the camel's back was when before going to bed, I noticed a lot of flies coming from one of the bathroom cieling tiles, and lifted it, only to have a host of dead flies descend upon my head. I washed my hair and went to bed seriously creeped out. The next day, I came down ill with a 99.7-8 degree Fahrenheit fever. Whether this is connected to a dead bird, flies, or sleeping with wet hair, I do not know. By the way, the flies are all gone, and we suspect a mouse died somewhere in our house. :/