Mark, having seen Jim's truck parked at the curb, rushed inside his home to find that his father-in-law was ready to crush Brad.
“Stop!” Mark shouted, tentatively staying the hand of Brad’s father when the older man had been on the verge of squishing Mark's husband beneath a water glass.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jim asked crossly. “It’s a fucking fly!”
“It’s not,” Mark countered, still out of breath from his mad dash to the front door and through the house. “It’s Brad.”
“What do you mean?” Jim sounded incredulous and cast a glance at Sal, who had partly formed his trademark smirk before freezing his expression in the face of Mark’s apparent sincerity.
“It’s the truth,” Mark said after exhaling a loud sigh. “He was messing around with something and turned himself into that.”
He gestured in the direction of the housefly on the countertop and all eyes suddenly focused on the pathetic insect.
“He’s messing with me,” Jim said, sounding uncertain. He looked to his other son. “Right, hijo?”
Sal shrugged. “He seems serious, papi.”
“I’ll prove it.” Mark leaned over the counter and held out his hand. “Brad, fly to my hand.”
The fly buzzed but didn’t lift off the counter.
“Brad, just fly to my hand," Mark implored.
“I think papi winged it,” Sal volunteered.
“Him!” Mark snapped. “It’s Brad, not an it!”
“Sorry,” Sal said, staring at the struggling bug in unabashed shock.
“Brad, are you hurt?” Mark’s voice inquired.
Sensing skepticism from Brad's family, Mark spilled out the story about the dead batteries and the trip to the store to replace them.
“I have them now,” Mark said, shaking the paper bag.
“How the hell was I to know?” Jim stepped back from the counter, sharing Sal’s shock after listening to Mark's incredible story.
"Brad, I'm sorry that I took so long..." Mark began apologizing to the insect.
“What are you waiting for?” Jim asked.
The little bug buzzed its wings to express agreement with its father, who had just tried to exterminate it.
Mark reached for the device and clawed free the tab that covered the battery compartment.
Sal had lowered his face directly over the insect that had been identified as his older sibling.
“Is that really you, hermano?”
The fly buzzed its wings and spun in a semi-circle.
“Fuck,” Sal whispered.
Sal looked toward Brad. "How'd he get his hands on something like that?"
Mark was sweating, mostly from stress and adrenaline, and shook his head.
"No idea," Mark said as he replaced the batteries with the new ones and waited for the Chronivac screen to open.
The device had rebooted and took its time as the three men and one fly waited impatiently.
A question flashed on the screen.
“REPEAT EARLIER TRANSFORMATION?”
“What’s going on?” Jim crowded closer.
Sal turned away from his transformed brother and joined his father and brother-in-law.
“I’m not sure…” Mark started hesitantly. He didn't want to make a mistake.
Sal groaned and suspected Mark was about as clueless about technology as his father.
“Let me look at it,” Sal said, extending a hand.
Mark pulled the device away as Sal reached for it and, in the process, accidentally swiped “Yes.”
“TRANSFORMATION COMMENCING.”
After a flash of light, the clothing that had been occupied by Mark, Jim and Sal collapsed in three separate heaps on the kitchen floor.
At almost the same instant that the clothes sank to the floor, the Chronivac clattered to a hard landing on the kitchen tiles.
Seconds later, frenzied buzzes could be heard rising from inside the piles of garments.