Frozen with indecision, the terrified little fly, formerly a human physicist, could only watch as his father's gigantic form moved closer to the shelves, taking up more and more space in the room as he advanced on the tiny insect’s location.
“Papi!” Brad wanted to scream. “Don’t!”
At the last possible second, Brad flew, hoping to gain enough altitude to escape his papi’s reach rather than just wait to be swatted like a pest.
Jim Rivera grimaced when he heard the renewed sound of the insect’s irritating buzz. He pinpointed the fly's location and swung forcefully with the rolled-up magazine.
The little fly struggled to make its wings flap faster, desperate to gain altitude while still pleading wordlessly for its enormous papi to spare it. Brad felt the surge of displaced air as the magazine sliced through the air but missed him by mere inches.
As Brad struggled to keep his flight steady, he heard his father loudly curse in frustration from the near miss.
“No!” He urged his little wings to carry him higher, and he thought he had made it, but a loud crack, like a sudden lightning bolt, preceded the horrific slam as his father adjusted his aim and swung again.
WHAP!
Grazed by the glossy cylinder of rolled-up magazine, Brad plummeted, out of control, wings failing. He felt like his insides had almost been forced out of his body by the blow.
"Got it!" Jim shouted with rather zealous glee.
"Don't think so, papi," Sal said with a snicker. Brad's sibling watched as the fly corrected its out-of-control plunge to avoid smacking into the coffee table.
"Huh?" Jim asked.
Sal raised up his arm and swiped at the fly with his hand as it tried to escape.
"Ahh!" Brad screamed without words. "Now they're both trying to get me!"
His brother's huge fingers came within inches of making contact with his frail little form.
Brad flew higher and spiraled around the living room light fixture. He landed on a globe of frosted glass, exhausted by three close calls.
"Where'd it go?" Jim bellowed.
Brad surveyed the living room from on high and saw his brother give a simple, indifferent shrug. "Don't know, pops."
Jim Rivera spun in place, looking and listening for any sign of the escaped pest.
When the insect's location eluded him for the moment, he considered other means.
"I think I'll check the kitchen," Jim said. "See if the boys have any bug spray."
Sal reached for the remote control and turned on the television. "Knock yourself out, Papi."