The Fly in my Jail Cell

I was alone in a dark jail cell. There was nothing in my room. Nothing but a can of excrement. And a fly. A housefly. Why was I here? I didn’t have a clue.

“Whatever are you doing here?” asked the housefly.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I woke up in the morning and here I am.”

“But surely you must have some idea how you got here.”

“I remember that I was in a car. There was a man.”

“Yes. Go on.”

“I think he tried to hit me. Perhaps I passed out. That’s all I remember. I must have flown over in quite a daze.”

“Why don’t you just come home,” the housefly asked.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that I’m here. Perhaps it’s my destiny.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, have you checked out the can over there?”

“I can smell it from here. Whatever are you talking about?” he said.

“Well, I have all these fertilized eggs from the last time we, well, you know, did whatever we did. This seems like a wonderful place to leave them. No one ever cleans up here. We’ll have hundreds of offspring.”

“That’s not a bad idea, after all,” my man fly said.

“So I laid the eggs.” We buzzed the warden and flew the coop.

“