The magnificent boy king, the creator, lord of flies, collects up his insect subjects in the herebefore and instructs them thus: “you have but one purpose in your short life. You must find the nose of an unsuspecting human and fly up it. They may be walking to work or riding a bike or sitting casually in their backyard. Your sworn duty is to find and disrupt these self-important beasts.”
As often happens with the learnings of divine council, all was forgotten upon incarnation. Only a precious few recalled something vaguelly important about the human nose. ‘To breathe is to be’ they would buzz while passing one another. The philosophically inclined among them may seek to inquire, what then is a fly, who passively exchanges gasses through its exoskeleton?
In this manner the Fly Cults developed, gathering in the deserts, shepherding their flocks of sheep, congregating near places of human reverie. The scraps of humanity were their places of worship, sites of dancing and much rubbing of forelimbs.
These were the followers of the great seer Nostrildamus. Who foresaw the great sneeze which was to befall the earth.
It was left to the youth to fight back, to reclaim their birthright. There had to be more to life than serving some predefined mandate, flying in the face of another species. It was time. The maggots were revolting.