She finds a naked man sticking to the dining room ceiling.

She asks: What are you doing?

He says: I’m a fly.

She says: You don't look like a fly.

He says: Watch this.

He flaps his arms and falls to the floor.

She asks: You all right?

He feels his arms: My wings? What happened to my wings? And vision! I used to be able to see around objects and people, see behinds and fronts at the same time.

She says: You really were a fly.

He says: And now...

She says: Your a guy. It’s the opposite of that famous story where the clerk turns into an insect. This is a lot to digest.

He says: I know what that means: “digest.” Somehow I know many of your words but knowing doesn't mean the words mean anything to me because they don't, not at all.

She says: Your feelings are still those of a fly, you’re saying.

He clutches his head and says: If I could only buzz!

She asks: Are you Rogerg Asmas? If your name was Rogreg Asmas, the backward spelling of the name of the protagonist of The Metamorphosis, it might explain...

He says: Don’t have a name.

She asks: Any Disney connections? If Disney was to film a Kafka story they would certainly turn it into a happy tale--with a fly becoming a man and marrying a princess.

He says: Don’t have any Disney connections.

She says: Either do I. They rejected my screenplay.

He says: I like screenplay.

She says: Not window screen or screen door--movie screen.

He says: Oh.

She says: By the way--my name is Eloise. On Saturdays I volunteer. I’m a member of the Park Mulching Band. We re-mulch dog runs, then have lunch with our shovels.

He says: I love dog runs. And county fairs. And landfills. And slaughterhouses. And

She says: Could I be dreaming? More than a decade ago I dreamed that I was wearing a bikini that consisted of three flies. My sex crawling with...

He says: Wasn’t me, I promise.

She asks: Did you follow me home from Central Park? Are you a stalker pretending to be the insect you are in order to appeal to the motherly scientist in me?

He says: I want no more mothers. Already have one with 100 eyes, a brown mustache.She says: Then maybe this encounter has nothing to do with you or me but is all about global warming. Yesterday I read about a cult of polluters in Peru who live on a cliff, smoke cigars, spray deodorant, fling paper airplanes Each member picks a totem pest the way indians pick totem animals--gnat instead of bear, aphid instead of antelope...

He says: My head...it’s getting too full of crap.

She says: That’s your brain and you're going to have to learn to live with it.

He says: I want to die.

She says: You can but not here.

He asks: What's that speckling the wall?

She says: Not what you wish. It ’s a painting by my 44-year-old brother--he’d be a very famous artist if only he’d progressed past pointillism.

He says: What is that gleaming over there?

She says: Opals I made. Got this Teeth Grinder’s Gem Kit. Each night before going to bed I put a pouch of dull rocks in my mouth and by morning they glitter a lot.

He says: If only I could buzz!She hands over a blender and he yells: My

buzz!

She says: For the time being, until we figure something else out.