Chapter 4

12/24/2012

The Last Day

10:59:51 a.m.

Behind the worn-out jukebox, a black beetle lounged sleepily. The bitter, brutal cold was coming on fast, and experienced northerners, whether human or insect recognized the coming of hard winter.

Lifelong Pennsylvanians automatically turned up their coat collars, grabbing the edges to pull them tight around their necks for protection against the invading cold. Bugs crawled up into warm, protected corners and rode it out, to avoid becoming bits of detritus swept up by countless brooms wielded by porters, janitors, and homemakers.

Secure within his exoskeleton, the beetle had staked out his little piece of heaven long before winter descended on the city like a ravenous hawk. Hidden beyond the reach of the porter's broom and protected by the iron and steel bulk of the music machine, the overfed insect went unnoticed in the dust and debris.

Ever concerned about his safety, the beetle had plotted a set of routes that avoided people, taking him between the jukebox and the checkout counter, under the closet door, up the exterior wall, and through a crack in the roofing tar to freedom. Over the course of several months, the enterprising interloper had slipped in unnoticed, unhindered, and unmolested. By the time the cold hawk of winter had arrived, the beetle had a sufficient supply of discarded foods carefully stored, awaiting his appetite.

The kitchen and distracted diners provided unending delicacies for his indiscriminate palate. Sloppy Joes, meatloaf, soup du jour, and countless crumbs of pie had made their way to his dusty abode. Potential rivals had attempted to evict the beetle, but that was before the real cold had set in and forced the population of insignificant insects to seek safe shelter elsewhere.

On the last night, he was perfectly perched for the show.