Limp oily black hair hangs in her face covering bloodshot brown eyes. She's much too thin so her robe slipped way over her shoulder almost exposing her right breast. She was pasty white and one of her wings was dirty and broken.
Staring at me she takes a long drag from her cigarette. Blowing smoke halos above my head, she takes a shot of bourbon and chases it with a Pabst Blue Ribbon. She coughs, hacks and spits clearing her throat so she can answer."No, I'm not taking meth," said her still angelic voice. "You've done all of this to me."
"Moi?" I asked.
"Vous," she says taking another thoughtful drag of her cigarette. "At this rate I'm going to be in the freakin' Angel Hall of Fame."
"What did I do?" I asked.
"Oh let me count the ways," she said slamming a hand on the bar. "Twice I've had to save you from dying in car wrecks. I made a pistol stuck in your stomach jam when the drunk homeless guy pulled the trigger. You get Bill Berry to throw you over a wall in a Monastery landing on two Monks making them break their vows of silence ..."
"You know Bill's not the former drummer for REM," I begin but she cuts me off.
"I KNOW WHO THE HELL BILL BERRY IS," she shouts. "He's not my problem," she softens taking another sip of beer.
I decide it's best to keep quiet.
"Listen," she says, "twirling a strand of her greasy hair in a finger, "I need a vacation from you. You're going to kill me and that's never happened to an angel before."
I nod feeling very much like I did when I sat in the Principal's office at Groves High School and the Deans office at Seminary.
"So I've cut a deal with Sarah. She's gonna watch after you for the next two weeks. She's already pretty close to getting her wings for marrying you anyway. This should push her to the front of the line," she smashes out her cigarette and immediately lights another.
"Where you going?" I excitedly ask. I love vacations. As soon as one's over I'm already planning the next one.
"None of your damn business," she fires back. "You listen to me," she continues pointing the cigarette at me. "Do not fuck this up! Sarah's got my number and if she has to use it so help me God won't be able to save your ass."
After an awkward moment of silence I say, "Well alrighty then."
She stands and adjusts her robe so that it hangs from both shoulders. The good wing flaps but the broken one just hangs off to one side. Leaning over the smashed out the cigarette, she shakes her hair back and disappears.
"Hmm," I shrug sitting there. "You don't see that every day."
"See what?" the bartender asks.
Eyeing him for a few seconds I ask, "Do you believe in Angels?"
"Oh yeah," he immediately answers. "No way I'd still be here without my Guardian Angel."
"Hmm," I mumble.
"Micheal," I hear the Angelic voice out of nowhere, "Do not fuck this up!"
