Opening my eyes from a dead sleep with my arms around Sarah, I repeatedly blink.
"Pssssssssst," she giggles again. "Get up. I gotta talk to you."
"Holy Christ!" I mutter, withdrawing my arms from around my wife and crawling out of bed.
"You're naked," she says giggling more.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, she comes into focus. Shaking my head, I brush my long hair back, lift my index finger indicating she's to follow me. I don't want Sarah to wake up. She stumbles following me out to the Beloved Back Deck and I have to catch her when she slips in the kitchen.
Opening the sliding glass doors, I shove her through and silently close them behind me. Goddess immediately scratches the glass so cussing I slide them open again so my dog can come outside. As soon as I shut them, Winston, the little gay dog, does the same thing and I cuss even louder opening and closing the door one more time.
"He is so gay," she laughs.
Her loosely clad blue and white robes are wrinkled with a big yellow mustard stain. They've falling off her right shoulder and I see that she's a tattoo of Pirate Wench sitting on a treasure chest. Her long black hair is askew, her eyes are puffy and her feet are dirty.
"Got a cigarette?" she asks.
"I don't smoke," I snap.
"Oh yeah, I knew that," she sighs, snapping a finger and a lit unfiltered Camel appears out of nowhere. After taking a long drag, she plops down in one of the chairs, nods her head and a tall boy Pabst Blue Ribbon appears.
"Why in the hell are you waking me up?" I ask irritated.
She blows a halo.
"I need to talk to you," she says suddenly thoughtful.
"About what?"
Rolling her eyes she commands, "For God's sake sit down and get your thingy out of my face."
I sit.
"Listen," she slurs, I need your help. "It's evaluation time in Heaven and I need you to put in a good word about me. I don't want to go back to being a regular angel singing damn Hosannas all day long. I really need to keep Guardian status."
'Heaven evaluates?" I ask.
"Every couple of thousand years the damn Apostles have to strut their stuff," she explains while spitting a logy over the railing into the black night.
"Swear to God," she says, "when Jesus picked them out of the gene pool there wasn't a lifeguard around."
I don't know what to say.
"So," she continues wiping her mouth with her arm after missing her mouth with the beer, "I know you talk to God a lot out here."
"Yep," I nod. "Almost every night."
"And you never say a damn thing about me do you?"
I think it's best to keep quiet. Goddess heads to the other side of the deck. Winston, the little gay dog, starts licking himself. There is no breeze and it's hot as hell. I start to sweat.
"So just thank the good Lord for your Guardian Angel every once in a while," she snaps.
"Sure," I shrug. "I mean you have helped me out a lot."
"Damn right I have," she says straightening up.
I shrug my shoulder again.
"Alright, there's a keg party I gotta get back to," she says standing and her rope falls completely over her shoulder exposing her breasts.
"Angels have keg parties," I ask as she covers herself.
"Those of us in Special Ops do," she says as she disappears.
Winston, the little gay dog, stops licking himself. Goddess sighs loudly. It's as quiet as a Church.
"I wonder if Sarah's awake," I say out loud as I head back inside.
Then I go wake her up so we can call on the name of the Lord together in the middle of the night.
And we do.
Though I don't believe either one of us said anything my Guardian Angel.
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