I don’t like cherubs. To be honest, I think they’re kind of gross. I don’t like their fat, round faces or childlike whimsy.
With that being said, you have to understand how I reacted when I saw a cupid the other day. There I was, sitting alone at a coffee shop and staring at these two people on a date. It was this bartender from my favorite bar and my old friend/new nemesis Greg. I took Greg to the bar one time and he asked her out within the first five minutes.
It was going so poorly. Greg was trying to make all sorts of jokes and the girl wasn’t even chuckling.
Okay, maybe she was laughing a little. I guess it might’ve actually been a good date, but it would have been better if I were dating the bartender instead of Greg, that’s all I’m saying.
Anyways, he gets up to go to the bathroom, and out of the corner of my eye I see this floating cherub aiming a bow and arrow at him. So I leapt up and swatted it to the ground.
Then I kicked it a bit, to teach it a lesson about shooting arrows at people on dates. Only it turns out it was a cupid, and it was shooting one of those love arrows. If he’d hit Greg, he and the bartender would have fallen in love. Wouldn’t that have been wonderful, it asked me.
Well first off, how was I supposed to know it was a love arrow? Looked like a regular old arrow to me. Wooden with a heart-shaped tip, being carried by a floating baby. Seemed like every other arrow I’d ever seen.
And second, that wouldn’t have been wonderful, because then I wouldn’t have a shot with the bartender.
In fact, she’d been checking me out during the date, I told the cupid. Why not shoot the arrow at me?
Then the cupid told me that she hadn’t been checking me out, she was giving concerned glances toward the weird guy staring at her. And I was like, what weird guy? I’ll smack him to the ground just like I did with you, cupid.
It turns out I was the weird guy. I guess the cupid and I perceive things differently. Anyways, it floated out in a huff. But it left its quiver of love arrows, so now they’re mine. That’s cupid law. Leave the arrows, anyone can have them. My lawyer told me that.
I’ve gotta say, these love arrows are pretty fun. I don’t have a bow, so I just throw them like a spear at things that I want to make fall in love with each other.
I tested them out on a couple at a park. Sure enough, after the guy got hit he got down on a knee and started proposing. Then I threw another arrow at a meter maid and he started proposing to the meter maid. Good luck getting out of that one, guy.
I went to a pet store and made a dog fall in love with a moray eel. That got weird.
I was at a deli and heard a guy say, “this sandwich is delicious.” So I said, “well why don’t you marry it,” and hit him and the sandwich with arrows. Then he started kissing the sandwich.
I went home and threw one at a mirror to make me love myself.
I found myself back at the coffee shop, and there Greg was with the bartender again on a second date. Should I have been happy for Greg?
No, of course not. I already decided he was my enemy for asking out the bartender before I had a chance. So I jabbed one arrow and my leg, and threw the other at the bartender.
She yelped a little, and then complained to the staff and had me thrown out. I didn’t get it? Why didn’t the love arrow work? It worked the other times.
On my walk home, I saw the cupid flying around again. He was flying a little wonky and was holding a bottle of whiskey so I’m pretty sure he was drunk. Celebrating a successful Valentine’s Day I guess.
I asked him why his stupid arrows didn’t work on me. Take another look at them, he told me. So I looked down and I saw they had “placebo” written on them.
He told me he shot people and the thought of being hit by a love arrow made them process their emotions faster. Then they’d fall in love. They weren’t magic at all.
Well then why’d they work those other times, huh? That’s what I asked him. He said the other people must have already had those feelings. The park guy loved the meter maid, and the dog loved the eel. And the deli guy must have had a weird thing for sandwiches.
I guess the only upside is the one I threw at the mirror must mean I really love myself. That was a nice thought.
But then the cupid took a swig of whiskey told me it just meant I had a big ego. Maybe I should even hate myself a bit and have some shame in my clothing choices.
So I punched it and knocked it to the ground again.
You gotta take your wins where you can get them. I may not be dating the bartender, but I did get to beat up a cherub twice. I’d call this Valentine’s Day a success.
