His name was Jim Carlton. He had a smart wit about him; people called him one of the nicest guys on the block. He also knew some of the best hang outs in the apartment building down below. You see, the only problem for him was that he was a fly!

He had seen things happen to his people time and time again, it would happen to even some of his best friends from fly school, he could count them on his fingers and toes, fly toes that is, and the sight never
ceased to sicken him - one minute you're scaling your favorite south side wall, like the south side kitchen district or something and wham, smack, smear, all over the wall fly blood and guts everywhere, limb from
limb, spattered across some guy�s wall. I mean guts and everything spewing from every direction. �You know, flies are people too,� Jim would say, �at least living creatures too.� Jim even knew this one guy who had flies as pets, he always thought he�d like to see some activist holding a sign saying �save the flies!�, for god�s sakes, �save the flies�, but no. So Jim had humans figured out, or at least Jim thought so.

You see, where Jim comes from, when a person says, �Hey buddy, eat shit�, that�s like a complement or an invitation to a fine delicacy, a reward. You know he knew humans detested them but the way humans went about tormenting his race was utterly amazing to him, to Jim, anyway. Although humans go about their day-to-day routine of work and play and their society lives on a kind of structure, well little did they know that flies have a similar structure of their own, I mean like humans do. For instance , if a human had defiled another person�s property or something this person could find himself in a lot of trouble right? Well, Jim had a cousin. Donny was his name and Donny, well Donny had problems, even to the fly community he was just simply gross. I mean gross, gross, he was fat, yes, balding, and toothless, and he always seemed to be wearing that same old wife beater shirt, as Jim remembers, and his face, well, that was something else, always unshaven, and greasy, he always seemed to have that permanent grin across his face, and then of course, he always had shit all over his mug, and then of course he always had shit all over his face, I mean, in the teeth, across his lips and sometimes even all over his shirt, well just like humans even flies clean up after a meal, but I mean the guy was gross. Anyway Jim remembers all of this all so well, because he had to testify on behalf of Donny�s behavior that day.


It seems that Donny one afternoon decides, after never ending problems with his spouse, decides to �head across town� (the living room of a guy named Tom Riley�s apartment was known to the community as the metropolitan district and now come to think of it Tom wasn�t so clean himself) decides to stop off at a buddy�s place, in the backyard of Tom Riley�s apartment, it seems there was this big pile of shit, dog shit�s what it was, that Tom had forgotten to pick up days ago, so Donny�s buddy takes up on the �No Vacancy� sign that was planted on the quieter side of this large turd.

So, like always, Donny�s always stopping in for a bite of a poo-poo platter.
After an hour or two of chowing down, Donny becomes his routine belligerent obnoxious self and went sporadically flying around the yard until he found an opening in the screen door. There it went swinging, just the slightest bit, and Donny made for the place. It seems just as Donny went shooting across the kitchen, Jim Riley was in the kitchen preparing himself a fine bologna sandwich and was placing himself down for a fine meal and the daily paper and there Donny went, heading straight for his plate, not even thinking twice, and lands his face into a pile of mayo. So then uncle Donny starts puking all over poor Tom�s sandwich, then he squatted down low, grunting, and squirts a big ole crap in a pore of Webbers bread, then, as he likes to, smears it in with his feelers.

So anyway, Jim saw that a large fly had landed in his sandwich and was struggling to get free, and whack!! Tom�s rolled paper pummelled Donny to the floor. Now all Donny could do was lie there in his own filth, with smears of mayo mustard and balls of shit all over his face again and die; he died instantly, that day.

That is all Jim Carlton knew of his uncle Donny the fly��.