The dining room table had long been empty. The candles were cold, the room was dark under the half-moon shining through the bay window. The plates, covered with whatever remained, were still at their places, napkins nestled beside them, and utensils scattered around glasses that varied in their amounts of liquid. The chairs were pushed neatly in, and the doors to the room left open for who knows what.

A fly whizzed about in its strange, rapid dance as it scented food, and it landed carelessly on a scrap of steak. The steak was still oozing with deliciousness. The fly rubbed its two forelegs together, bringing them up to its mouth, then swiftly over the antennae, and back together to rub once more. Then it twitched about, hopping on the steak until it found a particularly oozy spot. Just as it was about to suck up an almost microscopic portion of steak, a large, brutish dog waltzed in. The fly darted away into the flower arrangement, glaring a thousand-fold at the dog.

The dog had the body of a Mastiff, though it was lean and a bit thin, but it sported the head of a Great Dane. Its paws weren’t particularly small, but significantly sized nails protruded dangerously like those of a wild beast. The dog tossed its head, flapping its partially cropped ears about, and slinging a bit of drool onto the cold, hardwood floor. The fly flitted restlessly about on a flower stem, still glaring at the brute. The fly dove down to a lower leaf, and peered from behind a rose thorn. The dog was pulling out a chair with its powerful jaws, and leapt upon it, bowing its head over the steak scraps. The fly buzzed with anger.

The dog was too busy lapping up food to notice the fly as it sped for him. The fly danced about, fuming at the dog, and buzzing as loud as it could. The dog simply ignored it, devouring the last bits of the steak platter. As the last bit of oozing deliciousness was slurped up, the fly went crazy, flying up and down in a spiral motion. The dog, still having not noticed it, simply moved on to the next dish. The fly scented lobster this time. The fly gave up its insanity, and zipped into the flowers again.

The brutish dog had its paws around a lobster tail, chewing on the open end, and licking out the stray bits left behind. The fly watched from inside a lily, jittery and half-insane. The fly would have been happily feeding if the dog hadn’t shown up. The fly would have had a fat belly crammed with steak. The fly hopped to the side wall of the lily’s interior, spying a bit of gravy-smothered turkey on the far end of the table. It was far away from the selfish dog.

The fly hopped out of the lily, and flew into the flowers once more, popping out on the other side, and darting under a napkin. The fly hopped around to face the dog across the table, who was still crunching on a lobster tail. The fly hopped to the side of the napkin, and whizzed out, swerving in the air, and landing on the plate of turkey scraps.

The fly crawled under a fork, which had been left laying across the plate. It glared momentarily at the dog, and turned towards the turkey scraps. The gravy was congealed, but much to a fly’s liking, and the turkey was particularly soggy. The fly flitted around, zipping in circles around the turkey, while also spiraling downward until it hit home. The fly hopped with glee, and performed its little ritual of rubbing its forelegs, and slicking back its antennae. It began to search the turkey with its proboscis protruded, skimming over the turkey like a vacuum cleaner until some geyser of flavor gushed into its mouth. The fly hopped up, and landed by the tasty area, dancing around it, most likely thanking its creator for its abundant feast.

The fly calmed down and poked around the spot with its forearms. Its wings buzzed in approval, and the fly prepared to feed. As it was about to suck up another nearly microscopic portion of food, a hot wind struck the fly, and it flew away, whizzing into the flowers again. The shivering little fly peered from behind a fern leaf, looking for the source of that frightening breeze. The fly glanced down at the plate, then upwards. Suddenly, the fly exploded with rage, flying round and round in tight circles, upside down and backwards, buzzing louder than any other fly in existence until it drove itself into insanity. The fly locked onto the dog once more, and thought it to be just a mountain of edible meat. The fly sped out of the flowers, straight for the spot between the dog’s eyes, and spread its legs to land on the infuriating brute. The fly shut its many eyes as it drew close to impacting, but the fly continued to fall at an angle until it bounced off of the floor. The fly landed, rolling over until it lay on its back, folding its legs against its shriveling belly.

The fly cracked open an eye or twenty to find the dog was no longer there. Its eyes whizzed around the room, scanning fervently. Then the fly began to feel that hot breath once more, and the dog was suddenly looking down at the fly with its tongue lolling out. The fly folded its legs tighter, and snapped its eyes shut. A sudden explosion of vibrations poured over the fly, and the fly tore its eyes open, but the dog was gone. The fly buzzed its wings feebly in an effort to right itself as it lay in a puddle of moonlight. The dining room was now desolate.