The Cherub Conspiracy

 

Yesterday, I had a premonition that someone was trying to kill me. It was like an itch in the small of my back where someone had their laser sights on me: Time to activate my ‘Evasive Action Protocol’.

I spent the day hugging the shadows and avoided eye contact with strangers. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of impending doom.

Finally, I went on the offensive, set some traps, and hid in my panic room.

Today, I found a dead baby in one of my traps. He had pretty angel wings and a broken bow.

*****

With the help of some gaffa tape, I fixed up Cupid’s bow.

Now that the meddling matchmaker was out of the way, it seemed to be a shame to let it go to waste. I might as well have some fun, after all.

I found a young sap sitting at the bus stop. You know the type I mean, an acne riddled face and his trousers at half-mast. He was reading a book, the geek. Got him right through the heart.

Sadly, my second arrow missed the sheep I was aiming at and hit a pretty girl instead.

*****

I spent the day trying to use the bow to create mischief, but the damn thing did its best to resist my nefarious machinations. I’d find a perfect target and then, at the last moment a stray wind would ruin my shot.

True love blossomed wherever I stalked.

The only good thing I achieved was finding a gentleman caller for the crazy cat woman next door.

Hopefully, I would see a reduction in the cat droppings in my back garden if all went well.

Who would have thought that our local traffic warden would turn out to be so romantic.

*****

That night, I was haunted by the most hideous nightmares. There were people giving chocolates to each other, and flowers, lots of flowers. In fact rose petals were a predominant theme throughout.

There was loads of sloppy kissing and lovemaking.

I’m not talking the kinky kind, with strap-ons and who’s ya daddy shit,  no, this was sick stuff; all lovey-dovey and gentle caressing. I nearly barfed in my sleep.

I woke to find my bedroom had grown.

My Dastardly and Muttly  pyjamas had turned into a diaper. My beard had vanished, and I’d sprouted a crown of golden cherub curls.

 

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