After hovering over the open box, the fly chose a landing spot on an orange-brown surface. The pizza slice looked more like an oily bog in an alien landscape from the changed perspective of the transformed scientist.
Brad’s six legs, excellent for clinging to surfaces either vertical or horizontal, sank into an ooze of cheese, sauce and oil. Alarmed, he twitched his wings and landed on a wide, oval island of pepperoni. The salty, greasy meat appealed to him more than the cheese and crust and he began using his proboscis to suck up nutrients after the obligatory pre-processing vomit.
He should be disgusted with himself, existing on leftovers, garbage and worse, but it was becoming second nature to him, the same as the process of flight. He’d need his new form working at maximum efficiency for the epic journey back to his home, his spouse and the anticipated salvation behind the closed door of his lab. The scientific corner of his brain knew that he'd need to replenish his fuel reserves. That same segment of his brain realized that he would burn through those reserves quickly.
So he lost himself in an orgy of feeding, paying little heed to his surroundings.
Warmth. Food. His fly existence felt fully recovered from the perilous chill of earlier.
The man returned from his shower. As a concession to his housemates, he had wrapped a towel about his waist. But he was otherwise damp and quite naked. He entered the kitchen and glanced hungrily at a few remaining pizza slices in the open box. His eye passed over the tiny black form in the center of a pepperoni.
His immediate stop was the fridge, pulling out his refillable water bottle for a quick hydration after his run and shower.
After a long drink, he reached into the box and plucked out a slice, not even disturbing the tiny insect on one of the adjacent pieces. He bit off some of the pizza. He didn't even mind eating it cold. He did pull out a chair and sat himself at the table to enjoy his food and drink.
Brad, guzzling up his slurpy of gooey cheese and sauce, rotated his tiny form, crawling this way and that atop the cold pizza slice as he worked his proboscis through the deliquified pizza. His movement attracted the attention of someone above him… far above him, in more ways than one.
“Filthy pest!”
The man spoke, loudly, his voice amplified from out of the prevailing silence. The words were uttered and gone before Brad could recognize them. He could only react to the cue of volume.
“Uh-oh,” Brad thought.
He felt like he needed extra effort to lift off. His wings beat furiously. Had he put on weight? From simply sucking on some cheesy pizza!
But it wasn’t that… he had sank into the slurry of dough, sauce, cheese and salted meats, and now the sticky mess held him firm. He struggled more, splashing some of the goop onto his hairy form and his wings, which buzzed loudly.
Meanwhile, the man looked about for something to deal with the disgusting pest. He watched the dark bug as it seemed to struggle, apparently stuck in the greasy pizza. Brad’s faceted eyes gazed upward and saw multiple versions of the same look of absolute disgust as the man’s stare fastened on him and saw nothing but a worthless pest.