Fly.

Silent night. Holy Night.
All is calm.
You walked into a bar.
The stool was too high.You sat on it anyway. You reached for the stars and they gave you beer with a fly in it. Crawling for life at the bottom, of a glass, of your glass. What a life. The life of a fly. The life of someone who has wings. Wings that make you fly, and make you stupid enough to explore the depths of a glass full of beer.
Beer is sour . Stay away from it be you person or be you fly.Because my friend, Rules are rules. Broken to be broken, meant to be meant.