Fly

Rixx held down the paper cup with pride and pleasure, directing his hatred and disgust for all houseflies at the single example of this winged vermin that buzzed and tapped it’s way around the inside.

Had it been capable, the fly might have been flattered that Rixx considered him such a worthy foe, at least up until the time of the capture.

During the chase, Rixx had commented – while swiping at the insect with the kitchen towel or the handful of mail – that he had been tricky, and clever, and a bastard. And while Rixx was convinced the fly was in the apartment to taunt him, to…torture him, the fly’s motivations and ‘feelings’ on the matter…if there were any…were more base.

Rixx aimed to kill that fly for all the horrible things it was and he nearly broke his mother’s antique Rosemont lamp to do it. All the fly thought of was food.

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