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AN UNBELIEVABLE STORY TOLD BY AN INSECT.
A Barfly's Destiny
The rescue of Alexander Napoleon Crocket.
Written by Angie Strawberry

Chapter 3: What happened at the American Pub.
Page 4

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The journey to America is a completely different story. I doubt if I could finish such story with how much time, I have left to live. Especially if I included all my favorites that, I decided on along the way.
I can feel my life is fading with every beat of my heart and I want to complete this story even if it takes my last dying breath.
Nevertheless, back to my story. There I was in an American Pub. I kept myself hid in my favorite spot, a place on top of the man's head that carried me from England. "Home Sweet Home" at this was inside his long matted hair. For the most part, on my journey to America this spot kept me successfully concealed.
The atmosphere in the American Pub was festive and just like my homeland Pub the only musical group that was coming out of the music box was Bon Scott's ACDC. Some ignorant flies buzzed by but I could not understand them at all. These empty headed flies seemed content bothering the patrons by defecating on their food. They did not appreciate their own lives and their deceptive happiness sickened me. Will they ever just stop and really see what they have.
The fact that I would die only in a few days or at any moment if someone successfully swatted me did not haunt me any longer. I would not let my fears stand in the way of my purpose in life. This took a lot of weight off my conscious.
It did not take me long to find out that I was in the right Pub. I heard everyone talking about how much a man called Jim Morrison who sounded a lot like Bon Scott. I also learned from listening to them that Jim Morrison would be walking in the bar door at any moment!
To release some nervous tension I few out of the English man's hair and did a few looptee loops in the air.
This brought on some unwanted attention by the other flies that were in the Pub. Some of the flies came to me and asked about a million questions however I did not reply and buzzed away from them.
When I did buzz away from them, I was not looking where I was flying and flew into a thick cloud of cigar smoke. I got instantly dizzy and crashed against a neon sign and then I fell onto the windowsill. While lying on my back, I kicked my legs and rubbed my bug-eyes. My stomach became oozy. I started coughing uncontrollably. Then in the middle of a sharp cough, I died.
I must have died because for a brief moment I was sitting on top of my body, calmly having a conversation with spirits of the other dead flies. They too were sitting on their bodies that littered the windowsill.
The spirits listened to my life story and then they informed me that Jim Morrison would be coming into the Pub at anytime now. They said that Jim always stands by the music-box every night and sings along with Bon Scott. We watched for Jim's arrival by looking out of the Pub's neon lit window. We were making jokes about someone who was walking by outside of the Pub when a spirit, who had introduced himself as Roger, pointed to a man with a medium build and dark long hair who was walking across the street and said,
"There's Jim".
Jim did not look at all like I thought he would. He was not that big and he had long hair. I thought he would be a good dresser but he was unshaven and his cloths tattered. I also thought Jim would be a happy go luck type of gent however, he seemed to be depressed.
Jim also looked like he was in a hurry. Still looking through the Pub's tobacco stained window, I saw Jim walking in a fast pace toward the Pub and then he reached for the door.

Click here to continue with A Bar-fly's destiny.
Written by Angie Strawberry

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