Cupid

Chapter Two: The First Lesson

Half an hour later Mitchell was parked on the couch, staring across the room at his newest acquaintance, blank faced with disbelief. He licked his lips and swallowed hard, finding his throat was drier than (insert snappy turn-of-phrase here). He sighed deeply starting again.

“So…you’re the mythological angel, Cupid?” Collaro said, blinking several times in rapid succession.

“Relatively speaking. And what did I tell you about calling me mythological? I’m here, ain’t I?” The young man replied as he struck a mockingly dour pose.

“Relatively speaking?”

“Yes, it means in a manner depending on the situation.”

“Right, that’s not quite what I meant by the question… So, where is the cherubic kid with the diapers and the bow?” Mitchell endeavored, testing his companion with a terrible joke of his own.

“Oh. You see, as technology advanced I quickly learned that I preferred some rugged blue jeans and a nine millimeter semi-automatic. Makes me feel more, I don’t know…aloof,” came the witty, albeit casual, retort.

“So, if you’re really an angel, and not a babysitter, why are you here… in my house… today?”

“Well, I may or may not have disagreed with the Big Man on a few things, and may or may not have been thrown out of Paradise. The important thing right now is that I’m here to help you as a personal muse and the purest incarnate of passion and love.” Mitchell was fast learning that he was only going to receive half-hearted and/or cryptic answers at best, but had to take them at face value.

“I don’t need any help, especially from a failure. I think I’m sitting pretty good where I’m at, thank you.” Where did this guy get off? Coming out of no where and offering help where it wasn’t needed! Honestly…

“I think you do, kid! Now seriously: when was the last time you had a truly meaningful and equal relationship with someone who you could really connect with? Or disappointing sex with a middle-aged, disease-ridden prostitute with a coke problem and no teeth? Either or? If the answer to one is within your lifetime I’ll apologize for the inconveniences that I have caused you and leave right now.”

Mitchell did all he could not to calmly walk over to the wall and smash his head through it. Which is to say he didn’t speak a word.

“That was a joke, buddy, laugh,” Cupid sighed, walking over to clap the young teen on the shoulder who promptly shrugged away. “Too soon for the touchy-feely?” He commented dryly to himself.

“Just why do you think you can help me?” Mitchell finally found the courage to ask.

“Well, I’ve been watching you for quite a while, and you were starting to catch the feeling unless I’m wrong-“

“What, do angels stalk people now?”

“I picked up skills here and there in the name of truth and love when I was working with some guardian spirits. Besides, I told you that I’m not technically an angel anymore.”

“Whatever! Why do you want to help me, of all people?” the teenager asked him, beginning to get fed up with the lazier-faire attitude.

“Tryin’ to get back on the Big Guy’s good side one person at a time across the globe. You’re number’s up! Never have I been this foully regarded,” the angel said in exasperation. “But I think our conversations coming full circle.”

“Just how long have you been out of the whole angel loop then, or whatever you call it?”

“You know that whole Cleopatra/Alexander the Great era?”

“You were in trouble for that!?”

“No! I got kicked out like eight years before that, those assholes brought it all on themselves… Look, all of this talking has got me thirsty, I’m goin’ to go grab a soda from the fridge,” Cupid said, popping his neck again and sauntering over to the kitchen, leaving Mitchell dumbstruck. He came back a handful of moments later with a repulsive belch. “Now, after all of this time of me explainin’ I’m getting bored. Are you going to believe me and accept my help or am I going to have to move on? Oh, and by the way, ‘move on’ means that I annoy the piss out of you until you decide to accept the aid that I’m offering.”

Collaro bit his lip. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he honestly believed that this guy was an angel. After all, the wings don’t lie. Or he was going one hundred percent, bat-shit, balls-to-the-walls crazy. Either way this was going to be an insanity trip that Eric would be proud of. “I guess,” Mitchell finally replied, albeit tentatively, chewing into his cheek nervously.

The so-called ex-angel looked absolutely ecstatic, and clapped his hands together like a giddy school-girl. “Excellent! All right, lesson one: be true to yourself! What do you really want? Lifelong romance, or a quick lay to get the ball rolling? Oh, and admit that you’re gay so we can get that issue knocked out right off that bat!”

“What did you say!?” The adolescent flushed.

“Just go ahead and say that you’re gay so we don’t have to worry about that whole trap after a chick or two and can skip right to the guys. Come on, you queer! Just say you’re a faggot and we’ll move on,” Cupid replied a bit too cordially.

“But, I’m not gay,” was the predicable reply.

“Okay, denial. Well, let me put it out there this way. When was the last time you stopped paying attention in class ‘cause you were staring at some broad and thought to yourself: ‘I have to hit that!’? Now how many times did you more than willingly fool around and ‘experiment’ with your best friend when you were kids in junior high and elementary school?”

“Now that’s not-“ Mitchell was cut off.

“Not what? True? Fair? Kosher?”

The auburn haired child just blinked several times. Come to think of it, he had never really been that into girls. Sure he thought about asking one girl or the other out now or then, but he didn’t really care. And he never really thought that the annual swimsuit issue of this or that other magazine was that big of a deal, which honestly should have tipped him off sooner. Did that really make him a gay man?

“Really, Kid! What do you think about when you mastur-“

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence, I get the point!” The poor boy was a deeper shade of crimson than the angel thought humanly, or divinely, possible.

“I’m just saying…you need that sweet little ass of yours slammed hardcore,” Cupid pressed, giving his young companion a gentle swat on the behind, “and I’m just the one to find you that perfect someone to accomplish the dirty deed.”

“Are you always this...vulgar?”

“See, instead of continuing your path of denial and saying ‘Gross!’ and calling me some expletive, you changed the subject and spoke clearly and precisely. A true gay if I’ve ever seen one, and I was around for Greece, mind you.”

“You do realize just how politically incorrect you’re being, right?”

“Nope, we didn’t have lawyers and all that crap when I was made, just hilarious stereotypes. Now come on, I still haven’t heard you say the magic words…”

“All right! I’m gay!”

“And?” The angel inquired loftily.

“And I want your help!”

“And?”

Mitchell paused and skewed his face. “Please?” He guessed.

“No, actually the magic words were ‘Abra-Kadabra’! I’m sure you would’ve gotten it eventually though. I’m just speeding the process along,” Cupid winked. “Before I even give you anymore lessons we gotta’ do something about your…look. It’s like your fifteen or something. It is time for a full make-over: angel style!”

The high school student heaved a sigh. It was going to be a hell of trip.