“What’s the matter, Shrimp Face? Tired after just two pullups?” The sharp end of a broken broom handle nearly pieced Connor’s side as he screamed and fell to the ground. Terrance, the school bully, was feeling mighty strong today. As usual, the teacher was distracted by today’s newspaper and didn’t see any of it.

“Look everyone! Rat Brains is trying to take a nap!” Terrance pointed and cackled as Connor lay limp on the gym floor.

Connor began crying as Terrance and his cronies stalked off giving each other high fives. It was true that he had an ugly shrimp face, but he didn’t think that he had the brains of a rat. He was pretty sure that his brains were normal human ones. Red-faced, he whined in a high pitch, “I have human brains!” and as he said it, a drove of flies bolted in Terrance’s direction.

Terrance stopped and turned around to face Connor. “What’d you say?” He began walking back toward him, swatting flies away from his face.

Connor cowered in Terrance’s shadow. “I…I…I said that you’re right. I do have rat brains. Soft gray ones. And I stink, too.”

“That’s what I thought you said,” Terrance smiled as he kicked dirt into Connor’s mouth. “Now beat it, Shrimp Face. If I ever hear you squeal or see your raw hot dog head again, I’ll kill you,” he said, and meant it. The flies took to the air all at once, and Connor, trying to run away before he had balanced himself, stumbled back to the ground.

Connor eventually reached his house and slammed the door, falling to his knees and uncontrollably shrieking with fear. He was so frantic that he couldn’t think straight. Wha…how do I…what will…….what am I going to do? he thought to himself in a panic.

Connor’s dad heard him weeping from the living room. “For the last time, will you shut your gaping hole?” he shouted, furious that his newspaper read had been interrupted. “And where are all these flies coming from? I swear, every fly in Boston fills this house every time your filthy hot dog water body walks through the door!” he shouted even louder.

Connor bit his tongue and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. That night, he replayed the events of the day over and over in his mind until he grew numb and the idea of giving himself up sounded appealing. He resolved to go to school the next day and slap Terrance right in the face. He’d slap him as many times as he could before Terrance killed him and his lights went out forever.

The next day, Connor was awestruck when the class teacher announced that Terrance had moved unexpectedly out of state. His jaw dropped. All of his problems had evaporated in an instant. Looking around, he noticed that a large ball of flies had crowded to the window to form what looked like a smile. Curious, he thought. His mouth began twitching until he himself was smiling ear to ear at the realization that he’d never have to see Terrance Lazarro ever again. That is, until a chance encounter in New York City nearly twenty years later…

“Hold up. Hold up, please!” shouted a man as he ran to the cab Connor was sitting in. Before Connor could say anything, the man took his seat in the cab, forgetting to fasten his seatbelt. “You wouldn’t mind sharing, would you, bud?”

Connor looked at the man and was flooded by traumatic memories. Refocusing, Connor responded, “No, no, of course not. Terrance.”

“I’m really sorry, I’m terrible at remembering faces. Have we met before?” Terrance asked.

“Oh, yes,” Connor grinned wickedly as he initiated some sort of evil sorcery, the fingers on his right hand tapping and stroking his left palm. “Does Rat Brains ring a bell?”

Terrance’s face was blank.

“What about my raw hot dog head, you recognize that?”

Still that blank face.

“Do you remember anything from Valley High School?”

Terrance finally made a connection, “Oh, duh! Valley High! Sorry, I was only there a short while, I’ve nearly lost those memories. Man, those were some great memories, eh?” he said, trying to contribute to the conversation but clearly unaware of which memories Connor was referring to. “What was your name again?”

I’m the guy that you used to kick to the ground, spit on, and call names in front of the school. Connor Sandeski, but you probably know me as Shrimp Face.”

Terrance’s eyes were still empty.

“Oh, come on! Don’t insult me now, Terrance! You called me Shrimp Face every day from when we were in elementary school until you moved away in high school!”

Terrance’s eyes went wide, “Oh, yes. Now I remember. Boy, I have some memories that I’m not proud of.” He looked out his window, “Don’t we all?”

“We definitely do,” Connor replied, “and you should have fastened your seatbelt.” Connor reached across the cab to open Terrance’s door then kicked him out of the moving vehicle. The cab screeched to a stop and Connor exited, screaming at the driver to stay in the car.

An enormous black cloud began approaching, weaving through the skyline of the city. In some places, the force of the cloud was so powerful that it shattered building windows. Connor approached and stood over Terrance.

“I was mocked for most of my childhood, people thinking I was a disgusting person because flies were attracted to me,” Connor began, staring lovingly yet villainously at the cloud. He lifted his hands, “How very little I understood the power at my fingertips. You see, shortly after you left Valley High, I discovered that not only is there an attraction between these flies and me, there is a connection.”

Terrance began weeping in awe as he stared into the sky. “What you see above you is not simply a storm cloud, here to bring fresh, much needed rain to the city. No, no. These are horseflies. Every horsefly in New York City, actually. Here to do as I say. Or to put it more clearly for your cobwebbed mind…I command them, Terrance. They must do what I say. Anything I say, for as long as I tell them.”

Connor lifted his arms high in the air. “And you know what I’ve just commanded them to do, you weak, weak man?” He brought one arm down slowly, but Terrance still flinched. Closely following Connor’s hand was a single horsefly that made its way to Terrance’s face. Terrance swatted it out of the way, but it dodged the swat and remained at an uncomfortably close distance and wouldn’t leave no matter what Terrance did.

Connor smirked and nodded his head gently. Several more horseflies began flying around Terrance. “I’ve just eternally and irreversibly told each of these flies that their task - their lifelong purpose, if you will - and the purpose of their offspring is, very simply, to fly in close proximity to your body. Within five inches of your body, to be exact,” he said as anticlimactically as possible, knowing that the real show was coming very shortly.

Terrance looked at Connor, confused.

“I thought you’d give me that face,” Connor chuckled, then nodded in the direction of one of the windows that had been shattered by the cloud.

Terrance began squealing, “Please, PLEASE!! I’m sorry! How…how can I make it up to you? You want money? I’m a wealthy man, I can give you as much as you want!” He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket and shoved it toward Connor.

“Thank you,” Connor said as he accepted the cash, then swung his arms down in Terrance’s direction.

Screams resumed as the cloud engulfed Terrance’s body, but they died down as horseflies filled his mouth and throat. He tried running, but stumbled for lack of balance. Many of the flies landed on the wounds Terrance had acquired from being thrown out of the taxi cab, undoubtedly searching for a prime place to lay their eggs. Streaks of blood trailed from his body as he tried to crawl away from the scene.

The flies parted, creating black walls on either side as Connor walked toward Terrance. Connor noticed that a layer of skin had already been ripped from his body. Beginning to cry with joy, he whispered into Terrance’s ear, “I want you to know that this is just the beginning. All of this,” he waved his hands at the flies all around them, “won’t stop. Do you understand that? It will never stop for as long as you live. And if I ever hear you squeal or see your raw hot dog head again, I’ll kill you.”

Connor meant every word. He clicked his heels mid-air, then turned to walk away.