All she wanted was to eat her fucking peanut M&Ms in peace. But no, the presence of a roving fly in her apartment had her on high alert. Lest it decide to fly right into her mouth as she opened it to enjoy a normally salivating M&M (she preferred the red ones most, for some reason—perhaps because she was such a “passionate” person… or choleric). Maybe she should have just gone out into the shared backyard to attempt something like enjoyment of what amounted to her chocolate-flavored nuts. But there was even more “nature” out there (mosquitoes, gnats—the gamut), not to mention the possibility of having to make unwanted small talk with her neighbors. And besides, the whole point of eating the forty-two-ounce bag of M&Ms was to be inside, “vegging.” Sitting on the couch watching something mind-numbing on the boob tube in cud-chewing peace. But no, there was the incessant zzz, zzz, zzz of the fly, always knowing just how to catch Kristina off guard long enough to zzz, zzz, zzz right in her goddamn ear. Like, how did they all know to go precisely for that particular body part? It was fucking disgusting. 

Upon further research—done while holding a spray bottle of “Original” Windex in her hand like a gun, finger cocked over the “trigger” to aim at the fly if it dared to come near her—Kristina found that it wasn’t the ears, per se, that flies and other foul creatures of the insect family wanted to “access.” It was, apparently, breath alone that could attract them close enough to the general “head area,” prompting these beastly bugs to circle the ears as well. Though there is supposedly an “odor” that can emit from the ears, too. And, oh yes, if one should be worried about a fly actually penetrating through the ear, that was among the notable purposes of earwax: to serve as a blockade from such “phenomena.” As if Kristina needed to be further repelled by the ceaseless ways in which the mortal body operated ostensibly solely to 1) be gross and 2) attract flies that could innately sense all humans were doomed to become rotting corpses anyway.

The sweat and oil emanating from the outer layers of the epidermis were also a primary factor in “attraction.” But even when freshly showered, a fly was likely to still attack, perpetually “sniffing out” the oils of the skin. One would think that, between reading about the average fly’s vomit-inducing predilections and holding an ammonia-laden product, Kristina might have been put off her M&Ms. Not so. It was the one thing she had been looking forward to since waking up at six a.m. that morning. Her lone, pathetic beacon of light in a day of darkness. In other words, a day spent working in an office. 

It was no lie that those who lived the sedentary lifestyle of the office worker were prone to being out of shape—regardless of “company initiatives” to encourage an enthusiasm for “active and healthy” habits centered around further perpetuating the cult-like atmosphere fortified by spending additional time with nitwit co-workers. Why the fuck would Kristina want to spend more hours—let alone minutes—with these people, when she could walk or run by herself (obviously, she would never do either)? Without someone buzzing in her ear more bombastically than a fly about “important” workplace matters like whether or not They were ever going to replace the Keurig machine in the break room. Did Kristina really need to tell them that the synthetic contents that spill forth from a Keurig machine taste “broken” in any scenario of “repair”? Unlike the others, determined to fool themselves into believing the company was offering all manner of “perks,” Kristina instead turned to small “at-home pleasures” for comfort, like M&Ms and TV. As opposed to bothering with trivialities like trying to stay fit. When you’ve sacrificed your mind to the corporation, the body doesn’t really matter much anymore. 

This Kristina thought to herself as she shoved her maw full with another mass of M&Ms, thinking that she could do it quickly enough to avoid the risk of the fly managing to enter her mouth—this being among her top ten fears in life: bugs gaining egress into one’s holes. It had actually happened to her before as a fifth-grade-aged child. She was eating lunch (a PB&J sandwich because, what else?) outside among the other docile students. As she opened her mouth to take a bite, still too young and naïve to understand that every source of enjoyment in this life must be quashed and overshadowed by something horrible, she was too slow to notice the bee that had homed in on her open boca, going in for “the kill” by crawling right inside just as she bit down on her sandwich, now bee body-filled in addition to PB&J-filled. And yes, for its swan song, it was able to sting the interior side of her mouth so that her right cheek swelled up like a balloon, garnering her the permanent nickname throughout the rest of her school days as “Chipmunk Cheek.” Oh the curse of having to attend school with the same people from the very beginning of one’s so-called education. 

This time around, it wasn’t a bee. For, once again, her mouth wasn’t quick enough to close, giving the fly enough milliseconds to “season” her M&Ms with its guts. That was sure to get her to place the almost empty bag down on the table and stop eating the candy for good. Which she would have done even if she hadn’t decided to then drink the entire bottle of Windex she had intended for the fly’s demise. But now, she was repurposing it for her own and getting at least a modicum of “vengeance” by drowning the rent-in-two husk of the insect. Because, honestly, fuck him (and you just know it was a male). 

Maybe the fly even did her a favor, ultimately. She couldn’t go on living forever being able to have the unpredictably-triggered sense memory flashback of its taste and texture in her mouth. A bee was one thing to “slightly” ingest, but a fly was quite another. What’s more, flies could sense any presumed “decomposing matter” in its midst—including the CO2 emitted from breathing. And Kristina couldn’t really argue that she wasn’t exactly that. Decomposing slowly under the guise of being “alive” while merely a semi-sentient tool of the corporation. It was no matter though, they would easily find someone else to replace her. Perhaps a humanoid who wouldn’t have to deal with the vexations caused by possessing natural skin oils and sweat that could allure flies in the first place.