He just knows that the fly on the wall is watching him. He sits down to read the paper but he can’t concentrate because all of those tiny eyes are watching him. He’s certain it’s following him around the house. But it can’t be. It’s just a fly. He has a shower and he sees it on the ceiling as he tips his head back to rinse his hair. He wakes in the morning and sees it sitting on the screen of his digital alarm clock. He can hear it buzzing as he irons his shirts. He knows that the fly is watching him.
What he doesn’t realise is that the fly on the wall is me. He told me that I’d come back as a fly and eat shit.
I passed on the shit.
But here I am, and I’m buzzing.
I can’t wait to watch him squirm when the doctor tells him that an insect has laid its eggs in his ear canal.