He did not know his roots. He was born to parents of his kind, who according to entomological calculations, would have spent their 28 days of freedom and flight. But that did not bother him, since like them, even he would have no history left, when he enters Pearly Gates.

Buzz…

That low zipping, humming sound is enough to send shudders even to the Gods of this Earth, the Humans.

Of the 100 or more siblings, he was the fastest. So they named him, Jet.

Jet had two friends, Marcus and Seth. They thrived in a garbage bin, close to a restaurant. That was their home – Home Sweet Home.

The bin was always full, and it usually overflowed. The garbage truck would arrive each morning without fail, and a thin impoverished boy seated on the back of the track would come to their bin, to collect the rubbish, and dispose it into the truck. Looking at him, one would wonder from where the boy could muster such strength to lift the black garbage packet. But, the boy would lift the cover and throw it at ease, as if he was practicing shot put.

With the truck went some of the vagabond flies from the bin. However, the three stayed together, closer to their home.

The aroma of the food was always inviting, and it was a divine feeling to feed on the morsels that kept coming from the nearby kitchen. Sometimes sweet, sometimes cream.

Although, they were free to fly anywhere they wanted, there were forbidden places as pointed out by the wise ones’. Places where they were not supposed to venture. But, young as they were, they paid no heed, even to the wisest words.

Once Marcus roamed too far. He was as fast as Jet, which is a prerequisite in their world. Jet saw him enter the kitchen; and that was adventurous on his part. It was a place where those who dared to, never returned.

Jet was eager to save Marcus and he followed suite. ‘Cheeky fellow, that Marcus’, Jet thought.

Jet saw the kitchen for the first time. It was a place of marvel. The kitchen was filled with a multitude of aromas, emanating from multiple cuisines being cooked. There were a variety of dishes laid on the table. Freshly baked, and prepared for consumption.

‘In a few hours, all these would be gone’, Jet and Marcus had similar thoughts.

It was as if a portrait of still life. But despite the pleasure that it was, there was an emptiness. He could feel that, and why wouldn’t that be? the room was free from pests. In fact, the room was a different sphere compared to their outside world.

Marcus possibly felt the same too, and seemed to wander in a sense of uneasiness grasping him. He seemed to have lost his mojo of adventurism that he darted to a dark corner; a mistake, which was made up of both bewilderment and fear.

That was a place home to a grand daddy long-legs spider, called Jorge.

Good Ol’ Jorge. They have heard stories of him, and how he would dance upon finding a meal. But, this was not the time to witness his dance. A kith needs to be saved.

Jet flew harder and overtook Marcus. It was then, when Marcus realized that he was not alone. Marcus sighed a relief. Jet cordoned the area, carefully avoiding Jorge’s big, sticky web. Marcus got the picture, screeched a halt, and took an immediate detour that took Jorge by surprise.

‘Damn!’ Jorge cursed his luck.

He started dancing. Until then, no one knew he danced even when he missed a meal. Jet and Marcus were probably the last lucky ones to see him dance. They hovered around him in the pride of their youth.

‘Aren’t you the pest from the outside’ Jorge scowled.  ‘You might escape me, but, not uncle AJ. None can escape him. None would!’, he threatened, followed with a stinging laugh.

They did not pay any heed to his words and came out of the kitchen through a ventilator.

That was how Jet had befriended Marcus. Marcus brought his brother, Seth. Seth was younger to them, hence, a tad slow.

‘Who was Uncle AJ?’, Jet began to ponder.

He questioned his friends, until an old fly by the name Suga, informed him the following:

‘Uncle AJ or uncle Ajay was a bastard. He was all filthy. His dingy room was filthy and anything that you can relate to him was filthy. For the flies-folk he was a firebrand. There were rumors that he deliberately put filth on his balcony to attract the naïve, as a trap. Once caught he would torture them by dissecting their wings and legs; and some say, he ate them. As they say, some maniacs ate flies too.’

Jet was determined to pay a visit to uncle AJ’s accommodation. Uncle AJ was sure to welcome anyone of their kind. A red carpet welcome was expected and the aftermath did not deter his mission.

Marcus and Seth agreed to join him.

Identifying uncle AJ was easy. Through the window they could see a huge old man reading a magazine.

Before entering the room they had a quick glimpse of the room ahead. The two windows were dust ridden and had moist tear tracks formed due to yesterday’s rain splashing on it.

Entering the room was as if taken to a new dimension. The room was smokey. AJ sat on a crumpled, old black couch smoking cigarettes, which had more patch work than what looked like its leather cover. One of the patch work matched the lungi that he was wearing.

There was no ash tray. An empty tissue box was substituted as the ash tray. The ash seemed to spray across his Metallica tee shirt than on the tissue box.

There was a table upon which a half-eaten apple was placed, now turning to a pale yellowish-brown color and an old clay pot with water.

Rest of the room was empty.

The apple was a trap and Seth did not foresee that. He greedily wandered to the apple and sat on it, sipping its juice.

As if a lightening, there was a movement and sound, Splat! AJ had just muscled a thunderous shot on Seth. The knock was so powerful that the clay pot nearly rolled over from the table, if AJ was not agile to hold it back.

Frantically, he searched the desk for Seth’s mortal remains. But, to his dismay he realized he had just missed Seth by a whisker.

Seth lives to see another day. That day, Seth learnt a valuable lesson on survival. He learnt to rely on his three eyes and his special antennae that would sense an alien presence, which a humans’ sixth sense could not perceive.

However, the missed shot did not discourage AJ. He sensed that he was outnumbered and looked around to see how many flies were actually inside the room.

Realizing that Seth was the slow poke, he began to target him.

This time Seth was on the sofa. AJ moved carefully and stealthily towards him, and was about to strike Seth, when Jet landed straight on AJ’s nose. That distracted AJ and he lost his momentum and hit the wrong side of the sofa.

That probably annoyed AJ. He stood up with the support of the table and in a spite of anger took a vicious bite of the apple.

Jet asked Marcus to sit on the other corner of the table, while he sat on the other extreme corner. AJ noticed the movement and tried pouncing on them with both his hands raised over his head, as if doing a burpee.

Missed again!

The three flies were having the fun of their life time.

Jet deliberately went in an attack mode, landing on AJ’s face yet again, which angered AJ, who threw the magazine straight at him.

Missed!

Three shots and three misses! AJ was never so humiliated in his life, and his pride as a human was at stake.

Suddenly, there was a whoosh sound. As if a final move, AJ had stripped off his lungi in a snap, revealing his green and white striped underwear, on whose thread, a knot was tied with the room’s key.

With a force he swung his lungi in all directions to scare the flies.

He kept waving and running behind the flies flinging his striped lungi as if it was an Urumi. Then, at the unluckiest moment of his life, he tripped on his lungi and fell face first on the ground hitting the table on the way.

Blood now sprouted from his broken nose and it seemed that he had given up.

That was the moment to cherish, a white flag of surrender. Jet and his friends had the last laugh. They flew out of AJ’s den triumphantly.

Somewhere, the radio was playing the Queen’s classic track, ‘Another one bites the dust’.