My Foe is van-squished

Three days. That's how long it took to vanquish my foe. I must be getting old as this battle went on for far longer than previous encounters with one of God's "little creatures". It taunted me, dive bombing my head any time that I was seated. It buzzed and flapped in my face and quite frankly, well and truly "got my goat", more than once. It's been harrowing. I've bruised my hand, practically dislocated my shoulder and wrenched my neck chasing this evil monster around my house. Undeterred, I even set out a dish of my favourite honey in the vain hope of luring said creature to its doom. I began to doubt that wise old saying because not only was I not "catching more flies with honey", but zero flies at all. Plan B involved trapping the little blighter in a room with me. He or she would have to land at some point and when it did I would be ready. Or so I thought. After a few more well aimed swoops at my face, I suddenly saw it pausing for a recharge. Grabbing the nearest "swatter", I made my move. Guts and glob now cover a portion of my latest fashion magazine and rendered it useless, a small price to pay for my safety and, I might add, my sanity. I have triumphed over the wiles of nature once more and serenity has returned to my heart.