Despite the stomach-churning snack of putrid rubbish in the back of the garbage truck, Brad felt hunger overwhelm him as he explored the park. As a tiny fly, every valiant action exacted an exorbitant cost. He'd never worried about where his next meal would come from? Sure, he ate a lot of ramen during his college years. Just about now, he'd give anything to be crawling all over a mountain of warm, salty noodles...
"Fuck! I'm starting to think like a fly," Brad realized. He dismissed it as being caused by his hunger.
He zipped through the air with ease on his housefly wings, navigating around slow-walking monoliths that, as he got closer, turned into people simply going about their daily lives. The buzz of his wings as he flew past triggered a few of the mountainous beings into swiping at him with their hands, but he was too quick, too nimble, and evaded their glacially-slow attempts to deal with a perceived pest.
On the outskirts of the park, his new insect senses picked up a scent that identified as food that caused the entirety of his tiny form to almost quiver with excitement and anticipation. His wings eventually transported him to an enormous red, white and silver food cart of enormous proportions. His tiny proboscis felt positively wet with anticipation.
He zipped around a man standing next to the cart, but he ignored the mammoth being and touched down on a metal landing strip between two deep metal pans filled with warm water and floating, fleshy cylinders. The aroma was overwhelming as it surrounded him. He darted back into a brief jump-flight, landing on the side of the metal pits that contained a lake of warm water and what he now recognized as hot dogs, albeit frankfurters now the size of sea-going submarines.
His tiny legs clung to the sleek vertical metal walls that formed the rectangular holding trays for the vendor's hotdog supply. Brad inched closer to the surface of the water, senses tingling with eager anticipation.
He darted out again, a short flight, and landed on one of the floating hotdogs, becoming a tiny black speck on the vast log of minced byproducts. His tiny proboscis extended and kissed the fleshy surface coated with a salty brine. If he could have, he would have sighed with an overdose of bliss.
A giant hand holding a pair of tongs embraced a nearby hotdog, lifting it from the warm basin, splashing down droplets of the meat-infused water. Another giant hand wrapped in a plastic glove grabbed the hotdog and slapped it between a waiting bun. The entire action took place before he could even react.
But nothing untoward had happened, so Brad busied himself with the business of eating as the vendor served hotdogs with various trimmings to his customers. The giant tongs made several additional visits to the basin before they grabbed Brad’s hotdog, forcing the him to take flight.
The vendor’s swipe with a plastic-encased hand missed Brad by a proverbial mile, but now the man was wise to an intruder. Brad tried to circle back to the giant lake of hot dogs, but a giant hand always returned to swipe at him.
Brad watched all goggle-eyed with sheer amazement at the gigantic vendor. He felt little tingles of arousal with sharper pangs of hunger.
Again, he produced a mental sigh. He needed to stop lusting over the big, handsome giant food vendor. What he most needed was food if only to fuel his epic journey home…