Monday, April 10, 2006

Of Men and Angels

I bumped my head today. I was very annoyed. In the midst of my weeping and gnashing, I cast my eyes about, looking for Nigel, my guardian angel. He was, of course, nowhere to be found. Nigel is forever charging off for another day of frivolity, based on the flimsy excuse that he has been working too hard and needs a brief sabbatical in which to recover from a vast amount of jetlag. He claims that his wings are broken and his halo is bent.

Of course, now that I don’t need him, he’s here, sitting on the floor by my chair, munching bread and jam. I didn’t know angels liked bread and jam, although I guess manna would get monotonous. They must get famished. They probably like milk and cookies, too. All this time I thought Santa was making off with the treats, while it was actually my guardian angel! Bad Nigel!

Well, he just left. He went to check the schedule for today. He is able to check a timeline for the upcoming day, to make plans to counter any dangerous events that might be forthcoming. You’d think that as long as he can see, he may as well tell me. That way, I could watch out for myself and he could enjoy a little recreation, like Bumper Clouds, maybe. BwaaaaHaaaaHaaaaaa! Oh. Unfortunately, he is too conscientious and says he doesn’t get paid for nothing. But as long as he is getting a salary, I might as well make it worthwhile for him, so I’d better go.


Paul FooDaddy Brand said...

This is actually a little bit of genius, tucked away in the Archives and receiving a comment only after more than two years have passed.

It's a shame, really. We all should be ashamed of ourselves. Not you of course, TSB, as it was your post. The rest of us? Bent halos! Dirty, rusty, charred bent halos.

Jack W. Regan said...

Yes, for shame! I shall have Stubs balm you with his giant hammer.