The stupidest angel: a heartwarming tale of Christmas terror

them. It has something to do with the mechanics of faith. I don't really understand it. Do you have any more?" He held up the empty cocoa envelope. His mug was overflowing with melted marshmallow foam.

    "No, that's the whole box. So you're attracted to me because I'm loony and will believe anything?"

    "Yes, I think so. And because no one will believe you. So there's no violation of faith."

    "Right."

    "But you are attractive in other ways, too," added the angel quickly, as if someone had suddenly smacked him in the head with a sock full of people skills. "I like your sword and those."

    "My breasts?" It wasn't the first time that someone had said that sort of thing to her, but it was the first time it had come from a messenger of God.

    "Yes. Zoe has those. She's an archangel like me. Well, not like me. She has those."

    "Uh-huh. So there are female angels as well?"

    "Oh yes. Not always. Everyone was changed after you happened."

    "Me?"

    "Man. Mankind. Women. You. Before we were all one kind. But then you happened, and we were divided up and given parts. Some got those, others got other things. I don't know why."

    "So you have parts?"

    "Would you like to see?"

    "Wings?" Molly asked. She actually wouldn't mind seeing his wings, if he had them.

    "No, we all have those. I mean my special parts. Would you like to see?" He stood and reached down the front of his pants.

    It wasn't the first time she'd had an offer like that, but it was the first time it had come from a messenger of God.

    "No, that's okay." She grabbed his forearm and guided him back into his seat.

    "Okay, then. I should go. I have to check on the miracle and then go home."

    "The miracle?"

    "A Christmas miracle That's why I'm here. Oh look, you have a scar on one of them "

    "He has the attention span of a hummingbird," the Narrator hissed "Put him out of his misery "

    The angel was pointing to the jagged five-inch scar above Molly's left breast, the one she'd gotten when a stunt went wrong while filming Mechanized Death Warrior Babe VII. The injury that had gotten her fired, the scar that had ended her career as a B-movie action heroine.

    "Does it hurt?" asked the angel

    "Not anymore," Molly said

    "Can I touch?"

    It wasn't the first time that someone had asked, but – well, you know. "Okay," she said.

    His fingers were long and fine, his fingernails a little too long for a guy, she thought, but his touch was warm and radiated from her breast through her whole body

    When he pulled his hand away, he said, "Better?"

    She touched where he had touched It was smooth. Completely smooth. The scar was gone. The angel blurred in her vision as tears welled up in her eyes.

    "You complete shit bag of sentimental saccharine," said the Narrator

    "Thank you," Molly said, with a hint of a sniffle "I didn't know you could – "

    "I'm good with weather," said the angel.

    "Idiot!" the Narrator said

    "I have to go now," said Raziel, rising from his chair "I have to go to the church to see if the miracle has worked "

    Molly led him through the living room to the front door. She held the door for him. Even so, the wind whipped his coat around him and she could see the white tips of his wings below. She smiled, laughing and crying at the same time.

    "Bye," the angel said. He walked away into the woods.

    As Molly closed the door, something dark flew through it. The candles in the living room had blown out, so all she could see was a shadow flying through the house, disappearing into the kitchen.

    She got the door shut and trod into the kitchen, holding her sword at a low ready. By the candlelight in the kitchen, she could see the shadow over the kitchen window, two eyes shining orange back there in the dark.

    She picked up a candle from the table and moved toward the window until the shadow cast shadows of its own. It was some kind of animal, hanging from the shutter over the sink, looking like a black towel with a little doggy face. It didn't seem dangerous, just, well, a little goofy.

    "Well, this is it I am getting back on my meds tomorrow, if I have to borrow the money from Lena "

    "Not so fast," said the Narrator. "It'll be so lonely in here when I'm gone. And you'll be back to wearing your normal clothes. Jeans and sweaters, you can't want that."

    Ignoring the Narrator, Molly approached the creature on the shutters until she was only two feet away and staring right into its eyes. "Angels are one thing, but I don't even know what in the