Fruit Fly Variations
The rugged frontier of the lab was not for just any fly. It required grit, something that not many had after a lifetime of growing fat on media. The Lone Fly descended into the slick blackness of the garbage bag. Sure enough, there were sticky mounds of media stuck to the bottom. The Lone Fly began to suck vigorously, trying to fill his stomach so he could get out before the next piece of trash came rumbling down. The Lone Fly was just feeling satisfied when some instinct told him it was time to leave. Reluctantly he lifted off. The Lone Fly knew better to ignore his premonitions. Being cautious was how you survived out here. Sure enough, a crumpled up paper asteroid dropped to the bottom of the pit with a crash. The Lone Fly had gotten out of the way just in time. He lifted from the garbage can and drifted over to the nearest countertop to digest his meal. Now was a time of plenty, but it wasn’t always so. You had to be tough to make it out here.***
The fruit flies tumbled across the plastic plains in a single enraged mass. Their soft mouthparts sucked uselessly at thick human flesh. Entire groups were crushed by the annoyed and towering scientist. Body fluids spurted high into the air as rebel flies were flattened with incalculable force. Morale quickly broke and the tiny rogues spun dazedly away in a dizzying swarm. “I know,” said Luke Flywalker. “Let’s use a toe cable!” “All right cinnabar 5! Sounds like a plan.” Shouted cinnabar leader. “Closing in. Landing. Almost there! Almost there! I’m all right. AAAAUUGH!” The blood curdling death cry of cinnabar leader reverberated harshly through Flywalker’s antennae. It was all up to him now…
***
For the first time since she could remember, there was an opening. Fresh air rushed into the vial culture and mixed with the stagnancy of crusty media. Flymona flew upwards as quickly as she could, bumping into other fruit flies. Freedom was in sight for the long imprisoned Drosophilan people. It was a day of glory. Perhaps the cold-hearted scientists finally had mercy for the little people. But no! The flies found themselves in a new vial that was full of nauseating fumes. Everyone began to panic and the tube filled with discordant buzzing. There was no media here. This place could have only one purpose. The scientist was clutching the culture and screams arose at the sight of wrinkled, greasy fingertips sucking at the walls like giant lampreys. The huge black object came down through the porous ceiling and the fumes became overwhelming. Flymona’s wings would no longer respond to her frantic efforts. One last egg burst from her body as she strained for breath. It was no use. Flymona wept helplessly as unconsciousness engulfed her.
When suffering from writer’s block, remember Drosophila melanogaster, the inspiration to many great authors.