Mark lashed out his free hand at the source of an irritating buzz as a pesky fly followed him through the rooms as he looked for his husband.
The other hand continued to grasp Brad’s Chronivac.
“Mark!” Brad buzzed in fear as his husband’s fingers, as big as oak trees, sliced through the air as his Mark attempted to swat him.
“Brad!” Mark called, irritation plain in his aggravated tone. “You home?”
The fly refused to take a hint and flew back, hovering right in front of his face.
Through faceted eyes, Brad saw swirling images of Mark’s mountainous features as they reshaped themselves into a thunderous scowl as he opened his cavernous mouth to utter more curses as he ignored Brad’s buzzing pleas. “Fucking pest,” Mark growled, the palm of his hand managing to connect with his latest flailing attempt to swat the insect.
Wings faltered, his buzzing entreaties stuttered, as Brad spun out of control, spinning toward the floorboards of the living room even as his husband, satisfied he had dealt with the pest, continued through the house in a futile attempt to ascertain the reason’s for Brad’s absence.
Passing into the kitchen, Mark lowered the device he had picked up earlier onto the counter between the sink and the microwave. His curiosity about his absent husband had supplanted his questions about the device.
Far below, on a floor littered with crumbs, dust bunnies and other debris, a dazed housefly scurried on six wiry limbs as it tried to keep from panicking. His husband, who had accidentally triggered the device and left him stranded as a bug, was also the only person who could save him.
He needed to get airborne, but suddenly the floorboard shook. Mark made his way back into the room, shoes as big as ocean-going vessels, thumping on the floorboards and sending seismic vibrations through them.