Should I be calling the Godfather?

I was cleaning up and found another dead hornet in my study. That’s two in a matter of days. This can’t be a coincidence. In fact, I think I’ve figured out the story. All this summer I have been after flies with a vengeance – swatting, spraying, squashing or, my favourite method, vacuuming them to an early meeting with their maker. So I figure that the flies must have decided to end it and have put out a hit on me – a hit that the two hornets were trying to complete when I managed to off them with death-in-a-can. Now, you might say that it is silly for me to think such stuff but ask yourself what is less likely: that the flies have decided to rub me out or that there is an omnipotent being who watches and cares about every little thing I do (including fighting a turf war with the flies)?