Review on 🪰 The Executioner Fly Killer: Powerful & Effective Mosquito Swatter Racket for Indoor & Outdoor Use - Over 50cm Long! by Vicki Lane

Either I just met Rasputin who was reincarnated as a wasp or this stick doesn't work that way good as advertised Walking through the front door today a small red jacket decided to attach itself to my right shoulder and machine gunned me about 5 times. Squeaking like a pig and running madly through my living room, I calmed down a bit and tracked down the little guy on the tiled floor of my living room. I'm not sure if he's asleep in the dim light or just rolling onto his back laughing, but he lay still enough for me to hit him with my boot. It all ended here. OR THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT. Hours later, when I finally worked up the courage to approach his body to dispose of it, he disappeared. I spent most of the rest of the day in fear, carefully checking everything I touched and everywhere I went for booby traps. Don't laugh, this has happened before. I finally spotted him clinging to a recessed spot on the inner window ledge, knowing I couldn't reach him there with another boot. But he didn't know I was the owner. Hangman. I took my bat out of the gun cabinet, loaded it with fresh AA batteries and approached it cautiously. Holding the trigger, I moved the bat at an awkward angle to the window, just enough for the electrodes to touch his right wing. With a loud CLICK, it flew off the window frame and landed on the tabletop below. He'd obviously sustained a few injuries from the boot before, but there was still enough hatred in his soul to make him squirm in circles. I took the opportunity to pin him to the table with my racquet while still holding the button with extreme prejudice. The bat's electric shocks threw him back and forth like a marijuana ball, but he held his ground. I kept staring at him, clapping, flicking like an electrician until I smelled the foul smell of roasting wasps. For a few moments he lay on his back, legs pressed to his chest like a cockroach. But that's not all. I slowly raised the bat and, dammit, he slowly turned his head to look me straight in the eye and began using the one pathetic limb stump he could still control to pull himself up right up to me. If he still had his fist, I'm sure he would shake it in threat of revenge. The racquet has at least partially done its job. It paralyzed him so much that I was able to grab the old trusty boot again and put the little idiot out of his misery. This certainly did not happen in this case. Probably mosquitoes. Fly, probably. Ah, definitely not. They are too meaty and godless to be ashamed of such novelty. PS May this baby rest in peace. He was a worthy opponent.