Submitted by Charles Knighton

Until recently it had never occurred to me that I might develop an empathetic relationship with houseflies. I have long wondered what their sense of frustration and bewilderment must be upon finding themselves struggling against a clear pane of glass to reach a plainly visible yet excruciatingly unattainable goal. Modern packaging has now provided me some understanding of their plight.

It’s impossible now to get anything you buy open. A package of chewing gum. A vacuum-sealed, clear plastic cardboard sleeve, inside of which is a shiny socket  wrench. A bright Mylar packet containing peanuts and openable only with my teeth—like a chimp. I had to use a box cutter to stab my way through the tungsten-steel plastic encasing the replaceable head of my toothbrush, creating numerous edges so sharp that I sliced into my finger.

Security, I suppose, is the theory. Not my security, but the retailers’ from, I guess, theft? Lawsuits? I’d gladly sign a waiver if I can just get into my ibuprofen bottle at 2 a.m..

Feel for the housefly.