Originally Posted by cyccommute

As the sun was dipping towards its night's slumber, the mayflies were just emerging for their underwater suits. As their lacy wings dried they started to take to the air, the lovely females wearing the color that was all the rage this year while the boys stood around joking nervously. Soon they were moving in complex patterns in the air currents as they performed their mating rituals at the Mayfly Cotillion. There were some that had painted their wings black and their antennae and tails in day glow colors. These stood off to the side, smoked little bug-sized cigarettes and wouldn't participate in the dance but, eventual, even they started to be caught up in the biological imperative to reproduce. Soon all the mayflies were rising and falling in the currents of the air with wild abandon, soon to mate and produce the next generation of mayflies.

Suddenly, out of the gathering gloom, a ominous object approached with astounding speed. The mayflies, caught up in the ritual of mating, didn't notice the approaching disaster. Suddenly the cyclist was upon them! Hundreds were smashed as their delicate bodies crashed into the chest and arms of the speeding velocipedist. A more terrible fate awaited a few of the highest dancers as they were sucked into the terrible maw. A few impacted the tongue but the king and queen of the ball were sweep all the way into the windpipe never to be seen again.