It all began when I got home from babysitting one peaceful June day...
I sat at the computer and logged onto Facebook, because do I have a life?... no. The clock struck eleven-thirty and I remembered the quick-to-make cheesey macaroni waiting for me to cook and eat. So I made it and returned to reading really bad Batman fanfictions.
Suddenly, with a mouthful of delicious cheesey goodness, a buzz filled my ears. I looked around frantically, frightened of a bug landing in my bowl of food. Then I spotted the bastard, flying around my head, planning it's attack on my lunch. I flapped my hands around my head like a bird on drugs, and covered my food with my hand.
"Not today you hideous beast," I growled, then let rip my most notorious war cry and grabbed my club. The fly knew it had been spotted, for the next moment it took off towards the living room. I chased it like a madman, barring my club, waiting for the ideal moment to strike.
Then my enemy attacked from behind. I felt the gash on my head and knew I was hit. It was now or never to retreat, and so, bleeding profoundly and growing weaker by the second, I crawled to my fort and bandaged my head.
After resting for an hour, I knew I had to plan my next course of action. I got my sidekick and dearest friend, Alfred Underpants, and began formulating the plan. No doubt the little monster was enjoying my mac-and-cheese at that moment, so I had to move fast.
Alfred Underpants and I agreed that setting a trap for him to fall into was the best idea. I set it up between our two forts. It consisted of a delicious pile of dung from my dog, and me hiding in the nearby forest to hit him with my club.
And within seconds, the fly left my lunch to go enjoy my dogs crap. I grinned in satisfaction and moved in to attack.
But the fly was much quicker than I expected. He pulled out a sword of his own and so began the last battle, the one that could only end in death.
As you can expect, a sword is a much better weapon to have when in a sword fight than a club is, so with my buddy Alfred Underpants close by, I was thrown a sword.
The sound of metal clashing onto metal could be heard a mile away. We fought and fought, traveling through forests, across oceans, and even on the moon during this battle. Eventually, when back on earth, I knocked the sword right out of his hand and planted mine firmly on his chest.
"Yield," I growled. "For you have lost, and that macaroni is mine."
But little did I expect, the Fly was carrying a semi-automatic in his back pocket. He pointed it at my forehead and grinned that evil grin of his. I backed away, defeated.
But the Fly shows no mercy.
"Now you die," he buzzed, ignoring the rule of surrendering. I looked upon the face of death as my life flashed before my eyes.
Then I heard the bang.
But I wasn't dead. I was still alive, still on earth. I opened my eyes to see my best friend, Alfred Underpants, dead before me, the stuffing beneath his sown fur splattered upon the floor. I reached for him and held him close, murmuring his name.
Then, with a sudden adriligean rush like none other, I threw myself at the fly, the gun soaring from his hands. I punched him, kicked him, and fought him like I have never fought another fly.
Soon enough he was exhausted, and beaten, lying before my knees, begging for life.
"You killed my best friend," I growled. "I should kill you."
He just looked at me with his thirty-six eyes, and anger boiled up inside of me. I wanted to kill him, to have his dead soul on my hands.
But I couldn't. It is not what Alfred Underpants would have wanted. And instead, I locked him in a glass cage with a little bit of sugar water and hung him from my ceiling.
And then I finished my delicious macaroni and cheese.