Fly On The Wall

Ya know....you should be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. Those words now mean a lot to me.

Faye, a fellow secretary, and I were coming back from lunch. Our luncheon chatter consisting mostly of speculation about our boss, Arthur Barlow, and the beautiful, recently widowed, Mrs. Sylvia Stanyon. For the past three days, since the passing of the unfortunate Mr. Bartholomew Stanyon, the two have been in meetings that had lasted up to three hours in his office. Probate? We didn't think so.

Anyhow, I was just saying how I wished I were a fly on the wall in Mr. Barlow's plush office, when-WHAM!-a cab hit me as I was stepping off the curb. The breath was knocked out of me but, as it turned out, more than breath was knocked out of me.

I remember floating in the air above the tragedy of my untimely death, watching Faye screaming hysterically over my battered body lying in the gutter. The cab driver was babbling that it wasn't his fault. Really, it wasn't you know, I should have been paying attention. People were beginning to crowd around, when things went suddenly black. Then, there it was, that light, so gloriously bright and radiating such a serene sensation, it was no wonder people are always saying you should walk into it. And I did...I kinda expected to be greeted by a heavenly host of harp playing angels, all my friends and relatives, who had passed on before me, lined up to welcome me to my new residence. But, at the end of that marvelous light, things grayed out and I slipped into deep, dreamless sleep.

I later became conscious of a lot of movement around me. I slowly focused my eyes; everything seemed multi-faceted, yet, I was aware of thousands of white writhing maggots surrounding me. I was repulsed, at first, but when I tried to avert my gaze, became even more repulsed that I was no different than any one of them. It was then that I came to the realization that these were my siblings. We were resting on a deer carcass, or so I thought. It was, in all actuality, a large, very dead rat. My brothers and sisters were wasting no time burrowing into its mangy hide for all the delicacies a rat had to offer. If I didn’t hurry and do some digging in myself, I wouldn’t even get leftovers.

That was my life for a few days: eating, sleeping, growing fat and preparing to morph into the next stage of my new life.

I was proud of my new wings. I strutted like only a fly can do, folding and unfolding my transparent, thinly veined wings. It was such a wondrous feeling to fly, getting kicks out of buzzing around people's heads, dodging an annoyed hand in attempt to be rid of me.

Now that I had mastered flying, I set myself to my ultimate goal. It didn't take long for me to find the law offices of Barlow, Barlow & Son, Arthur being the son.

I flew in with the bakery delivery guy and waited patiently for him to set out the fresh pastries. I couldn't wait to absorb the chocolate eclairs I found I still had a taste for. I washed it all down with a bit of the coffee Faye had spilled in a rush to get to work after grabbing her daily fare. She was late again.

After my sugary breakfast, I worked it off by annoying Faye and a couple of clients waiting to see one of the Barlow's. I eventually landed on the mahogany bookcase that was filled with ancient law tomes, some of them dating back to the twenties. Grandfather Barlow had placed them on a cheap desk when he first went into practice sixty-some-odd years ago.

Like clockwork, Sylvia Stanyon strutted into the office at ten AM. And, as always, she was dressed to kill. She always looked more like a high priced call girl than a socialite and wife of a very prestigious man of the community. Not to mention, she had the worst taste in clothing I had ever seen.

Faye buzzed her into Arthur's office and I buzzed in behind her. In my excitement of finally getting the chance to know what they were doing, I almost flew straight into the face of Arthur, who let out a little squeak of surprise by my appearance.

I quickly flew away from him, landing on the top of the drapes to the large window in the office. I watched as the two went into a frenzy trying to remove their clothing while trying to keep one helluva lip lock on. It was hilarious watching them, looking like a couple of lovesick kids in their first lovers' tryst.

Arthur made sure the office door was locked and nearly dragged Sylvia over to the couch in his hurry to do the dirty deed at hand.

I wasn't much interested in that, and found some of Arthur's leftover eclair to digest while they attempted to keep the sounds of their lovemaking down. Really, it was quite disgusting to me. I guess being a fly, I found a lot of human ways disgusting.

When they had finished their business, they began to put their clothes back on.

As Sylvia was rolling red silk stockings up her shapely legs, fastening them to the red garter belt, her face grew dark.

"Arthur," she began, "do you really think we are getting away with..."

Arthur stopped with his shirt half tucked into his trousers and looked at her incredulously. Although he loved Sylvia (and, of course, her massive inheritance), he was getting weary of repeating their nefarious plot to be rid of her husband simply to quell her insecurities. "Of course we are!"

"That old bastard's been dead a month now. The coroner has already ruled his death was by natural causes. No one has any idea that he died any other way. Even if they did, it could always be considered an accidental overdose of insulin." Arthur finished tucking in his shirt, pulling the zipper of his trousers up decisively as he went on, "Lucky for us he had a touch of Alzheimer's. Barty Boy couldn't remember going to take a good crap if it weren't for the fact that he had toilet paper still stuck to that scrawny ass of his!"

Seeing the look of distress on her carefully made up face, he walked over to her, stooped down in front of her, took her hand into his and squeezed it gently.

"Sylvia, no one is ever going to know that we killed him," Arthur said confidently to her.

OH HO! So that is what happened to Old Barty Boy! Well now, this is one thing I never expected! I was so delighted with what I was hearing that I flew a little closer to the couple, landing on the arm of the couch.

Sylvia had one of her tiny red patent leather pumps in her hand...WHAM! Once again, I was floating above the scene of my demise. I saw her flick my wrecked little fly body off the arm of the couch, a look of disgust on her face as she did.

Well, there's that light again. Hmmm...I wonder if I can come back as a parrot?