Thomas had the blues. He hated himself. So he’d go to dive bars and drink whiskey and pick fights.
Thomas wasn’t tough. But he wished he was.
Thomas had a way with ugly words. He was an instigator. So he’d get drunk, find the biggest motherfucker in the bar and give the man no choice but to beat his face in.
One bloody night on the way back from a dive called Pappy Thompson’s, he saw a fruit bat the size of a cow. The gigantic creature hovered in the air like a swarm of bees.
“I am God!” said the humungous bat.
“Hop on my back and I’ll fly you to heaven”
Thomas was whiskey sick and his brains were rocked from the beating his head just took. He was bleeding a lot.
“Okay.” said Thomas. “Am I dead?”
The bat looked at Thomas and asked,
“Why else would I fly you to heaven?”
