The following is a short story I wrote as a writing spark for my weekly writers group. The contents of the story are posted to my blog, but are the property of me and this blog. Should you wish to post this with proper credit, feel free to contact me. Otherwise, reposting of this content will involve me sending a horde of flesheaters after you.
Also, the Cupid in this story has driven into rated R territory. In short, if an irreverent cherub with a chip on his shoulder and a vocabulary like a longshoreman seems wrong, or if you are easily offended, you should probably just hit the damn bricks now. You have been warned.
Cupid Needs a Vacation
I hate this time of year. Everyone is just so fucking sweet. Flower prices go up, everyone is buying chocolates and every store is littered with stupid fucking fat ass cherubs on cards, shirts, candy wrappers… oh and those stupid ugly assed cardboard and cray paper centerpieces. Who even uses those anymore outside of a grade school classroom?
A bit harsh? A little jaded? Maybe, but when you’re an immortal aspect of love with a body that will never grow out of baby fat stage see how much you like having your picture taken. I mean, seriously… even Harry fucking Potter gets to grow a five o’clock shadow now. Can a brother get a little stubble over here?
At least there’s the fringe benefits. Most humans will never see me scurrying along around them. Plus there’s the added benefit of shooting the ladies in the ass with my arrows. Guys, I won’t lie, I aim for the junk. You know the saying that guys only think with their little head? Who do you think inspired that? You’re welcome bitter hearted women of the world.
Call me a touch vindictive, but once in a while it’s even nice to see when one of those shots goes bad. You know those young people these days that think it’s cool to have an “open relationship?” Or even better an “open marriage?” What do you think happens when I plug one of those poor bastards when they’re off whoring around with one of their “friends” and not with the person they’re in a relationship with? And some of you people say that gays are ruining the sanctity of marriage. Shit, more gays that I pop with an arrow stick with their loved ones than the breeders do. Hey, I’m the immortal ever-childlike aspect of innocent love – I can use their fucking slang if I so wish. Bitter, jaded immortal prerogative and all that.
Simple math, but you need to actually be around people for something to happen guys. Not that there are some of you out there that a whole damned quiver of my arrows would help. My mojo only goes so far guys, leave your rooms, shower up, put on some nice clothes and learn to talk to people. I mean actually open up your hot-pocket-hole and say something, don’t send an IM to that hot shadow elf you’re raiding with!
And don’t even get me started on gay marriage. Do you know how much that has cut into my wedding planner finder’s fee? Turn your nose up at me all you want, but your tax dollars sure as hell aren’t paying for my arrows. That doesn’t even touch on my monthly diaper bill. That’s covered by my commission check from the League of Divorce Lawyers. What? Again, it’s simple math!
I tell you what, I’ll be a lot happier once this whole damned month is over with. Hell, give me four or five weeks and me and that Lucky Charms dipshit are renting a car with peddle extensions and heading to Las Vegas. With both our holidays over we’re gonna party like there’s no tomorrow. Plus, there’s nobody you want to hit the casinos with more than a damned leprechaun. Just saying.
So if you head to Vegas for Easter and you see a chubby kid in a toga and a little person in a shiny green suit doing blow off a hooker’s ass – don’t come over to say hi unless you’re bringing over a round of drinks with you.