Stuck On You

                                                          Stuck On You




Mary sat fixated as she looked at the flies that sat on top of Mark's hair. How could they stay there? she thought.  We are driving in a convertible with the top down at 65 miles an hour.

Mary had not seen Mark in years, until the other day when he came into the coffee shop where she worked.  His appearance was different than when he was in high school. He was her dream guy; a tall, handsome jock, with piercing blue eyes and blond curly hair. Now, he was chubby with thick coke bottle glasses that made his eyes seem larger than they were. Nevertheless, that didn't change Mary's feelings for him at all.  He had just bought a brand new red sports car and asked her if she would like to go for a ride and then have dinner with him.  Her heart thumped with excitement as he opened the door for her. Then, she noticed something very strange as Mark got into the car and started to drive away.  On the crown of his head was a group of flies just sitting there.

Mary stared in amazement. It seemed the faster they drove, the more determined the flies were to stick to his hair.  He turned onto the freeway, quickly maneuvering to the far lane and passed everyone speeding down the highway. Mark pushed his foot down on the accelerator and increased the speed up to another 25 miles per hour. Still, the flies remained glued to the top of his head. 

Mary remained silent, fearful of Mark's rejection.  She noticed a magazine on the seat beside her. The wind was causing its pages to rip and tear. She caught a glimpse of Mark's blue shirt blowing wildly on his back, as the flies sat motionlessly on his head. Mary leaned forward and turned the radio on, to try to divert her mind away from the bizarre occurrence, but she kept envisioning the flies not moving as everything around her was blown to bits. She gazed up at Mark, who was completely oblivious as to what was going on and continued to hum to the music while driving merrily along.

Am I going crazy?  Am I just imagining things that are not really there?  Why can't Mark see those flies stuck on his head? she wondered.

Mark started bobbing his head quickly, back and forth to the rhythm of the song, and the flies didn't budge.  Mary was tired and confused from trying to figure out what was happening, so she leaned back on the headrest of her seat and closed her eyes and began to doze off.  Suddenly, a buzzing noise woke her up. 

"I knew it,"  she whispered to herself.  I am not crazy!  The flies are moving in the air!  They are flying! They're not stuck anymore!"

Just then, she happened to see an insect caught in the windshield, buzzing and struggling to be free.

Oh, no!  It's a bee, and I thought the flies were loose. Now what? she thought.

Finally, Mark pulled the vehicle over to the side of the road beside a diner and looked in the mirror and said, 

"Mary, I would like to comb my hair before we get something to eat. Could you reach under the seat and get me some more hair cream?"

Mary reached under the seat and pulled out a pair of hiking boots, a flashlight, and a small camping backpack, which contained a round greasy jar and started to laugh hysterically as she pointed to the label.

"That’s not hair cream in your hair, Mark!  It says it's Fly Attract Gel!”