This is my entry for the Brigit's Flame entry for the first competition of the new year. The prompt for this week was "Angel."


It ain't easy being a guardian angel. Back in--oh--'47 or so, I was guarding a PI. This doll came in to his office. She was hot, that one. Blond hair, red lips, and a waist that looked as though you could span it with one hand. I was so busy watching her cross the room, wiggling her pretty little rump, that I never saw the irate husband with the gun.

He yelled, "I knew you were screwing around on me!" Then he turned and shot my guy right in the face. The PI died on the way to the hospital, and the guy's wife promised she'd wait for him. Said she didn't know he cared so much and that she'd never leave him again. Me? I was recalled.

I hung around heaven until I couldn't stand the harp music any more. Then I watched what was happening on the Earth, wishing I was there. Fifty years passed, then sixty. Finally the big guy came to see me. "Mikey," I said, "You gotta get me someone to watch. I'm going crazy here."

"What guarantee do I have that you won't make the same mistake?"

What a snooty mope. Just 'cause he's an archangel is no call for him to lord it over the rest of us. I was all set to argue my case; hell, I was all set to beg and plead, when I saw the glint in his eyes. "You've got one for me, don't ya?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes. "The boss reminded me that everyone deserves a second chance." I waited anxiously as he flipped through the pages on his clipboard. Finally he pulled out a sheet and handed it to me. "This one should be perfect for you. I got you a private investigator; just like the last one. Well, not exactly like the last one--"

I skimmed the sheet rapidly and said, "Geez, Mikey, what are ya trying to do to me?" I flexed my wings. "I ain't no nursemaid."

"If you're not happy with this assignment we might have another..." He grinned. "...in five or six centuries."

Now it was my turn to sigh. "I'll take it," I said. "If Susan--" I looked at the sheet again. "here it is, Susan Brigham is  twenty-five, then I'm not her first angel." I looked at Mikey. "What happened?"

"He quit; said guarding her was too much pressure."

"Wimp. Let's see, she lives in..." I scanned the papers rapidly, "Carpenter's Point."

I homed in on Susan and found her in a beat up Volkswagen Beetle, parked across the street from a seedy motel. We Guardian Angels don't usually show ourselves but I prefer the hands on approach. "Not much happening," I said. "Whatcha waiting for?"

"My client's husband has a habit of--hey!" She turned in her seat to stare at me. "Who the hell are you and how did you get in my car?"

"Hell has nothing to do with it," I replied. "I happen to be your guardian angel."

"Do you make a habit of scaring the person you're guarding half to death?"

I pulled a cigarette out of my trench coat pocket and stuck it in the corner of my mouth without answering. Dames love the silent, mysterious type.

 "Why should I believe you?" Her hand was on the door handle but she didn't seem particularly afraid. I found myself liking this girl. "If you're really what you say you are, prove it." She looked at me expectantly. "Prove it or get out."

Then I saw the gun in her hand. It was pointed directly at my head. I did the only thing I could think of to do. I disappeared and reappeared in the back seat behind her. There just isn't room to spread my wings in a Beetle.

"I don't know," she said. "You could just as easily be a demon as an angel, but I'll take your word for now. Just sit there quietly and--" A large black car pulled into the motel parking lot. A man in a dark suit got out and went into the office. When he came back, he held the door for a chippie dressed in a tight dress that was so short it didn't cover the tops of her thigh-high stockings. They went into one of the rooms.

"Finally," she whispered. She glanced at me. "Got to get some video. Stay here." She pulled out a video camera. "Be right back."

She slammed the door and crossed the street to stand outside the window of the motel room. Another car pulled up around the corner, where Susan couldn't see it, and a hugely fat woman in sweat clothes got out. By the light coming from the street light I saw that she had a gun. She walked up behind Susan, holding out the gun at arm's length. I figured that Susan wasn't the dame's target but to be on the safe side, I popped over to stand between them. Not that the old dame could see me or anything--only the one you are guarding can see you--but it put me in a much better position to protect Susan.

At that point, so many things happened simultaneously that I'm still trying to sort it out in my mind. Susan opened the door, pointing the video camera at the two people on the bed. The fat lady, who I'm sure was Mrs. Suit, ducked around her with amazing agility and aimed the gun at her husband. "I told you I'd get you for this," she shouted.

Susan and I both moved forward as the sound of a gunshot was followed by the burning sensation of a bullet plowing into my shoulder. Almost immediately police sirens whined out in the parking lot as Susan stood calmly in the eye of the storm filming everything.

When the dust settled nobody was dead. Mr. and Mrs. Suit and the Bimbo were all arrested, Susan's video proved Mrs. Suit's case at the divorce trial, and I had proved myself. All in all, it was a good beginning to what I think is going to be a beautiful friendship.

The bullet? It only stung for a minute. Angels can't be killed that way. Like I said, a guardian angel's job is never easy and I had a feeling this job was going to be harder than most. Then again, that's the way I like it. It's a tough job but somebody has to do it.