“You can do this!”
Brad gave himself a pep talk as he flew closer to the massive animal. The massive tail, a twitchy rope of horsehair, remained calm for the moment. Pushing on, he flew toward a horizon of brown horse hide.
Soon his six tiny legs clung to the horse’s rump just behind its rider’s saddle. Something about the scent of the horsehair and the leather of the saddle percolated together to excite Brad’s insect senses.
The fly wanted to crawl over the massive horse’s rump, but Brad suspected the effectiveness of that enormous tail. His plan depended on not getting dislodged. He needed to ride the horse out of the park and as close to home as he could get.
His hopes rose as horse and rider exited the park at the same entrance that days before had greeted Brad’s arrival once he escaped the confines of the garbage truck.
He was headed in the right direction.
Although not for the same reason, some other flies were attracted to the horse’s rump. A few dared to land on the horse in the same vicinity, prompting the horse to sway its massive tail when their crawling around over its hide produced too much irritation. The rump muscles flexed beneath him as the horse reacted to the irritations of the crawling flies.
If the horse kept moving in its present direction, Brad speculated he might be home soon. “We must be halfway there already!” Brad thought.
As if to dash his hopes, the officer turned the horse. Although no longer headed in the desired direction, Brad didn’t panic. He flew off for sorties whenever they approached a street sign, getting close enough to read the letters and keep oriented before flying back to his transportation.
The horse might still travel close enough to make it easy for him to fly the rest of the distance. His wings buzzed as he considered whether to fly solo. He had almost decided to do so when his fly senses suddenly exploded as the officer rode the steed through a gate and approached the stables where the mounts of the patrol were kept.
The air was thick with everything that could possibly overwhelm the delicate balance between Brad and his fly instincts: animal musk, urine, manure. Only by sheer force of will did Brad manage to remain parked on the horse’s rump as the officer rode into a colossal barn.
Dismounting, the officer surrendered the horse to one of the department’s grooms, who took the reins and led the horse away to remove the saddle.
Meanwhile, the office detected a buzzing fly… not anything at all uncommon here at the stables. A giant hand smacked at the little insect. The little pest wobbled briefly before making a beeline toward the entrance of the barn.
“I’ve got to get out of here and get home!” Brad told himself.
All around him other flies buzzed. Huge horses whinnied and neighed, while giant humans stalked through the barn. The melee of activity distracted him, kept him unbalanced. Other wings buzzed past him.
He might have made it if his inner fly hadn’t been so powerfully attracted to a reeking odor from a large puddle. Before he could react, the fly landed on the margins of the lake-sized puddle, its feet in a thin swamp of foamy yellow urine. To his horror, his proboscis descended almost automatically and began to immediately taste and suck up liquid from the puddle’s edge. On either side of him, other flies were stationed around the puddle.
One of the steeds had urinated in that very spot not five minutes before Brad’s arrival, permeating the vicinity with an aroma guaranteed to appeal to his stubborn insect senses. With the delicate balance tipped, he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.
People came and went, entering and exiting the barn, barely disturbing dozens of little black flies swarming the edges of a small puddle.