Cupid

Chapter Three: Divine Shopping Spree

“Catch!”

Cupid presented Mitchell’s mother’s car keys from his jean pocket with a flourish of his hand and forcefully threw them at the young teenager who reacted just quickly enough not to lose a few teeth in the process. They cracked against the wall, sliding to the ground a short moment later leaving a deep gouge in the alabaster paint. The scrawny boy nearly died, but he needn’t, since she would surely kill him anyway once noticing the imperfection of the house upon her return.

. “We gotta’ work on those reflexes of yours next, ya’ know?” Came the snarky reply from the angel in response to the boy’s dropped jaw at the force of the toss. “Now hurry up, you’re driving. I never bothered to learn how, what with the wings and all.”

“But I’m, uh, only fifteen-years-old. I can’t drive, not legally at any rate. Plus, I’ve never driven either,” Mitchell stuttered, retrieving the offending keys.

“Well, somebody has too and it isn’t gonna’ be me,” the angel protested. “I know a simple and fair way to settle our indecision. All we have to do is- 1, 2, 3, go! Not it!” He blurted out the last part mid-sentence before his young companion even had the slightest chance to counter.

The youth merely crossed his arms and grumbled something about Cupid being incredibly childish, but otherwise remained silent, stomping out towards the driveway which held his mother’s car, which was still being paid off, despite the welling discomfort in the pit of his stomach. Mitchell knew this was a bad idea, but felt compelled to comply with the would-be angel’s demands.

Then a thought occurred to him.

He stopped in midstride and spun to face his new acquaintance, almost smacking into his chest. “Do you have any angelic powers or anything? I’m not sure how to really phrase the question.” He inquired meekly.

“What? Like reigning down fire ‘n’ brimstone, and all that nonsense?”

Mitchell realized that this answering questions with questions habit of Cupid’s would get really annoying, really fast. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Well, I ain’t got nothing of that magnitude anymore, but I suppose I do have a few divine gifts left over from when I was in Paradise. I always preferred the subtler tricks anyhow. Made me feel less pushy than the rest of my brethren.”

“Would you mind sharing what they are with me?”

“I suppose I don’t have a problem doing that,” Cupid shrugged.

Mitchell released a heavy sigh was quickly becoming exasperated. He didn’t know how much longer he could take his unconventional comrade’s practice of being completely literal and at the same time noncommittal. He cocked his eyebrows and just started at the misfit cherub.

“Oh, you want to know what they are? All you had to do was ask, and politely I might add. You see, I can detect surface thoughts in those around me, like a really crappy quality psychic. Still better than those jokes on day-time television, though, but still very low-grade telepathy. So I can influence people’s emotions, either intensifying or deadening them, but that’s about it. Also, I can choose to appear to anyone at anytime anyway I see fit. This is one of my more comfortable forms, but I change to fit my environment, and occasionally become a stripper if I’m low on cash. This also allows me to be functionally invisible if I please. Then there are, of course, my wings which allow me to fly, and I have heightened reflexes and physical strength, being superior to you humans in about everyway. I think that about covers it,” Cupid responded, ticking off fingers and biting his lower lip in thought as he stared off into space absently.

“You can’t compel someone to do something against their will, can you?”

“No, of course not. Who do I look like; Obi Wan!? I can’t do the Jedi Mind Trick. Besides, forcing people to do something is against divine code. Free will and such. I can only influence actions, not force them,” Cupid assured the boy with a nod.

Mitchell decided to leave the fact that Cupid had seen Star Wars alone for the time being and focused on other things. He had to just assume that the fallen angel was telling the truth, but trusting someone who’d been kicked out of Heaven for some reason didn’t ring as the brightest idea to the young man, but then again, how many people in the world did he know that would pass the test to be allowed in the first place. Then another thought hit him.

“If you can appear anyway you want, any time you want, then why did I have to help you fold your wings back? Couldn’t you just make them disappear or something?” Mitch asked derisively.

Cupid merely scratched his head for a moment and skewed his face into a thoughtful pose. “You know, in thousands of years I never thought of that, although Caligula might have mentioned it once or twice,” the fallen angel conceded.

“Who is Caligula?” The adolescent inquired.

“You don’t want to know. But if you’re really curious, use the internet. And if you do look him up, know that I was really, and I mean really, really drunk on that case. It goes in the iffy pile of my ‘job well done’ inbox,” the seraph replied. “Now let’s get rolling, the good stores will only be open for a few more hours.”

“There’s another problem. I don’t have any money. And if I did, I don’t think I’d care to spend it all on a new wardrobe,” the young Collaro complained as he climbed into the driver’s seat and started to buckle his seatbelt.

“Don’t worry; I’ll take care of the costs. What kind of incarnation of love would I be if I made you buy your own clothes?” Cupid asked rhetorically as he sat in the passenger seat and gave his newest acquaintance a friendly wink. “Shotgun!”

* * * * *

“You drive like your in high school. Just terrible!” Cupid hollered as they pulled into the giant parking lot of the local department store.

“I didn’t see you doing any better! You were too scared to drive, remember?” Mitchell countered, breathing just as heavily as his angelic passenger. “And I am in high school. I’m a teenager. When are you going to commit that to memory?” He huffed.

“Hey, I did my part and got us out of that speeding ticket! I didn’t see you helping with that…” The beach-bum cherub replied carelessly, running a delicate hand through his perfect hair.

“When he turned his lights on to pull us over you transformed into a half-naked ditzy blonde and offered to blow him. How was I supposed to compete with that?” Came the annoyed response.

“I’m sure you could’ve found a way. Now let’s hurry and get you some new threads. This hooded sweat-shirt and blue jeans thing just ain’t doin’ it for me. I’m feeling something more mature. Maybe a dress casual look,” Cupid replied in a surprisingly astute manner.

Nearly an hour later Mitchell Collaro stood in an oversized dressing room in only his underwear, arms crossed, staring absolutely perplexed at what had to be a million articles of clothing in a neat stack, all waiting to be tried on. The duo must’ve cleared out every wearable piece of cloth in the young men’s department, and the youth had no idea where to start trying them on.

“I’d go with the slacks first, see if the cargo pants or the khakis look better. Although my money is on the black denim,” Mitchell heard from over the stall door and whirled to see Cupid, from the nose up, staring over the partition at his bewildered companion. The young teen quickly covered himself the best that he could with only his hands and flushed a deep red.

“I’m not dressed, damn it!” He barked, grasping the nearest pair of pants he could find and slipping them on, hopping up and down on one leg and nearly stumbling. “Didn’t we talk about knocking first?” The teen asked irritably.

“Yeah, but I zoned it out. I do that. Like…a lot. Anyway, on another note, the whole tighty-whitey thing isn’t working either. You’re too scrawny. They make you look too childish. So I’ll be back in a minute with something to replace those briefs.” The fifteen-year-old gave another embarrassed sigh as his ‘friend’ disappeared from sight. And true to his word he reappeared, peeking over the changing room stall roughly sixty seconds later. He tossed a small, red lacey garment over the partition. “Here you go.”

“This is a thong,” the shirtless boy said dryly, holding the sensual garment between two fingers.

“So what? Mature men wear thongs. There sexy, classy even. You’ll look great, trust me,” the ex-angel assured his young friend in a friendly nod.

“This is a girl’s thong,” Mitch answered slowly, enunciating every syllable to get his point across.

“Fine, but you owe me a drag show later, kid! Here you go,” Cupid joked (Mitchell hoped) as he lobbed another parcel over the dressing room wall, this one a bit larger. It held several pairs of solid black boxer-briefs. “Better?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Much,” was the only monotone response.

Over the next forty-five minutes Mitchell must’ve tried on over a thousand outfits. He had to admit that he looked pretty snazzy in most of them. The fallen angel had excellent fashion sense. Picking out several of his favorites the two of them were finally ready to head up the counter and pay for their attire. The boy had already done the math and the tab would be up to nearly five hundred dollars. Apparently Cupid had expensive tastes as well. Just as he said, the elder of the two swiped a credit card at the counter and paid the entire bill.

“You’ve just completed my second lesson, Mitchy, dress for success. When you look good, you feel good. You emanate confidence, and people pick up on that. You are well on your way through my love program,” the seraph commented once they were headed back through the parking lot in the waning hours of the afternoon.

“And just how many steps are involved?” Mitchell asked off handedly, struggling to carry the heavy shopping bag laden with all their purchases.

“Well, about twenty paces to the car,” Cupid jested. “Oh, in the program? Never mind that I make ‘em up as I go along. Sometimes get ahead of myself. But I’ll get the hang of this job soon enough. I’ve only been successful in the past.”

“That’s great. Just great. I’ve been meaning to ask you where you got the credit card. I mean, I’m guessing you don’t have a permanent address or identification or anything, right?” The youth inquired.

“Oh I stole some guy’s wallet while you were fiddling with some of the clothes. He’ll be missing it anytime now so I suggest we kick up the pace, eh?” The angel replied, speeding up his gait as he spoke.

“You stole somebody’s wallet? What kind of angel are you!?”

“Hey, I’m a good angel! I just bought you new clothes. Besides, the guy looked rich as all Hell; he didn’t need an extra five hundred dollars. I was just promoting charity. Helping him with the one of the five pillars.”

“Of Islam?”

“Or seven heavenly virtues. Or whatever. They’re all fine choices.”

“You’ve never read the bible at all have you?”

“I watched the movie. Well movies,” he gestured wildly, “It seems that every two-bit actor and their brother make some crappy religious flick these days.” Mitchell could only roll his eyes in response. Cupid had to be the worst angel of all time. He was lewd, he stole, he apparently drank a lot, and he didn’t know shit about religion.

“Like you ever read the bible! No one has, anybody who claims otherwise is a liar. It’s too long, and boring! Now come one, let’s get home, I’m getting hungry again. I seem to have misplaced my sandwich…”