Brad's thoughts tumbled into a cascade of doubt and self-reproach as he tried to put things on pause long enough to give some rational attention to the completely irrational reality of finding himself trapped as a housefly.
For all practical purposes, Brad was what he appeared. A "face," if he could call it that, dominated by two bulbous, faceted red eyes that kept firing a blitz of images to his brain, and a body covered with scruffy fur and spiky hairs supported by six thin, spiky limbs. Any human being would have no reason to suspect he was anything other than he appeared to be, a lowly pest, unless he could provide them with a reason.
"That's it," Brad thought. "I just have to get them to see!"
At least the transformation had left him with his human faculties, although he found resisting the fly's instincts extremely difficult. Even now, the putrid scents wafting from Russ's nearby compost heap sparked a war between Brad's intellect and his new and strong insect instincts.
Brad ruled out his neighbor. Sure, he had an infatuation with his big, black neighbor, but Russ's antagonism toward insect pests ruled him out.
Brad shivered, his wings strumming under the warm sun, as he flashed back to all the close calls from Russ's attempts to swat him.
From his perch on the garden stake, Brad pivoted his eyes on his huge husband's hulking form.
Despite all the hours he had already wasted trying to get big but oblivious spouse to notice him, he had no choice but to keep trying.
Suddenly, Mark lurched into motion.
"Happy gardening," Mark said, walking toward his back door.
"Wait!" Brad buzzed into flight.
"Thank you," Russ said as he lifted his gardening hat and swatted the hat at a bug that he'd seen flying away from his tomatoes.
Brad screamed wordlessly, but the brim of the hat in Russ's hand sliced through empty air, not coming at all close to Brad.
The back door creaked open as Mark stepped over the threshold.
"I'm not going to make it!" Brad thought. "I'll be trapped out here!"
He willed his wings to fly faster.
The tiny fly zipped forward and reached the monolithic door frame.
"Yes! I made it!"
Brad's premature celebration ended with a sudden, violent thump as the screen door slammed closed, impacting the tiny fly on its way to settling into the door frame.
The tiny fly became an involuntary projectile, hurtling forward, bumping off the fabric covering Mark's enormous ass, before tumbling out of the air and landing with a soft thud.
His entire tiny body ached, but Brad's quick assessment determined that he was more or less intact and uninjured. But where the hell was he?
His fly senses detected a strong odor permeating the air around him.