On the first day, that great guitar god in the sky made a skull-shattering noise and called it rock 'n' roll. On the second, he smashed his axe, lit the splintered instrument on fire, and watched it burn. On the third day, he destroyed a four-star hotel room. On the fourth, he signed a major-label record deal, transformed himself into a swan, and lay down with a famous groupie. On the fifth, he OD'ed. On the sixth day, he rose again. And on the seventh, he said, "Screw rest. I need someplace to party." And thus, Churchill's Pub was created.