Cupid's Big Break

"And you called Napoleon sick?"

He was reaching for his diaper the instant they landed, pulling the sticky grimy material back over his little dimpled buttocks. "Pervert," he hissed.

"Geesh, stubby, don't worry about it, there ain't enough there to even play with. A Cabbage Patch doll would be bored with what you're packing." Colin rubbed his hands together, scattering red dust on the ground around them. "Is there any way to get rid of these damn things? They itch."

"I guess you should learn to keep your hands to yourself. Now come on."

They'd landed close to Martha's estate in Bedford, New York, which contained a palatial mansion fit for the Domestic Diva. Cupid sneaked up to the wall, trying to stay out of view of the cameras and out of sight of the guards. Not an easy task with the amount of protection surrounding the twelve feet high walls.

"Come on," he hissed to Colin. He flew lightly to the ground, his wings fluttering madly. Colin climbed the wall, cursing the red flowers with every move.

When he landed on the ground, he brushed his hands off on his pants and then again cursed the red glittery dust that covered the grungy material. He growled at the way it clung, and brushed his hands against a nearby tree, seeing the shiny stuff stick to it.

"Would you stop that? We don't need to leave a bright red trail telling them where we are. Shove 'em in your pockets." Cupid was tired, grumpy, and worried. He didn't seem to be getting any help from management, almost as if God had decided mankind didn't need saving. Maybe that's why he'd selected someone like him and Hope for this impossible mission. All that had been missing was a self-destructing tape recording.

Oh, damn... Hope. When he was busy, he could ignore the nagging pain in his chest that seemed to throb when he thought of her, and of the way she'd looked stumbling off that cliff. He could only hope that her end had been quick and painless.

Cupid pushed aside some low branches and walked to the side of the big, beautiful house. Everything gleamed and glistened in the sun as if it were new. Flowers were rampant, their smell heavy in the still air. Trees hung heavy with fruit, and a vegetable garden flourished just off to the side of the house.

"Green thumb? This lady must have green hands. And all I have is this red shit all over mine."

"Hush!" Cupid hissed, "stop kvetching." He sneaked up to one of the sparkling windows that were plentiful along the main floor and peeked in.

"Daaayuum!" Colin said, looking in. "I made a mint from my bottle caps but this bitch must be loaded. Look at the artwork alone in this room, has to be worth at least $500,000."

Cupid glared at him. "We're not casing the joint, we're trying to kidnap Martha Stewart. Now shut up and help me find a way inside."

They jimmied a door wall and sneaked inside. Cupid hurried through the spacious rooms with their chintz and glitter.

"Check this out." Colin held up a small crystal bowl. "Do you have any idea what this stuff is worth?" He looked around before carefully stowing it in his pocket.

"Put it back. And forget about it. It's just stuff. I wouldn't know feng shui from chop suey. Ask me about romance and love, that stuff I know." He turned and peeked out from behind another beautiful paneled oak door. Suddenly he heard a voice and ducked back.

Martha walked into the room, her blonde hair gleaming in the sun from the windows, a phone up to her ear. "I don't care what the judge said. I am going to that award show if I have to bring half the state police with me." She listened for a minute, her expression irate, and then suddenly she smiled. "I knew you would see it my way. I'll be ready to be picked up on Friday at 9 a.m." She clicked off the phone without a goodbye.

Turning to put it down on one of the gleaming cherry tables, she saw Cupid and Colin's reflections. Her hand went to her throat, and a small gasp escaped her mouth. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"It's okay, Martha," Cupid said. "I can call you Martha, can't I?"

"No you may not, now, get out of my house. I have guards right outside within calling distance. One peep from me and they'll come in here and haul your di... wait, is that a diaper? Why are you wearing a diaper?"

"Shoot her, Cupid. Please."

Cupid lifted his bow, an arrow appearing in the string. He sighted carefully, aiming for the spot just below her slightly sagging left breast. When he let the arrow go, he said a prayer that it would wing straight and true. And potent, he thought, as it struck.

Martha let out a small shriek as the arrow sailed toward her. Before she could move, it hit and sunk deep, disappearing inside her without a mark to either clothing or skin. She stood stock still, her body rigid for an instant while the love in the arrow flowed into her system.

Colin nudged Cupid. "How come Napoleon had a hole in his clothes?"

"He's damned. Martha? She's just demented."

"Cupid, my friend." Martha came over, holding her hand out in a wonderfully welcoming gesture. "You and your friend must sit and relax. Give me a few minutes and I'll run out to the kitchen and fix something wonderful for you." She dragged the protesting cherub to the sofa and pushed him onto it. It won't take anytime at all, I think I have lamb medallions in the freezer. With asparagus and shallots, and this delicious shitake cream gravy. How does that sound, boys?" She gave them her patented camera smile, her white teeth shining brightly. "We could start out with some warm goat cheese toast, fixed with rosemary, walnuts and honey. Oh, it's a good thing."

"No, no, Martha, even though that does sound fantastic." He elbowed Colin who seemed to be salivating. "We actually have to go. Do you have a car? We need to get to Newark, New Jersey. We're going to introduce you to Satan."

"Oh, Satan," she giggled like a teenage girl. "He is so handsome. But I must change. I can't meet him in these old things." She gestured to the clearly never-worn-before plain pink cotton blouse and white slacks she had on.

"What you're wearing is fine. He is just so anxious to see you, Martha. Now, about that car..." Cupid pushed the woman towards the door.

She took them to a four car garage. Three of the cars sitting inside were expensive, luxury cars. Long and lean, built for power and leisure, and to show off, the cars would make any collector drool. Cupid walked quickly to the first and tried the door. It wouldn't budge, locked.

"Martha?"

She looked up from where she was checking her appearance worriedly in the gleam of the paint. "Are you sure I shouldn't change, or at least run a brush through my hair?"

"No, Martha. Where's the keys?"

"My manager has them."

Cupid stared at her. "What? Why?"

"So I don't leave the property and get any more time on my sentence." She looked up then. "Oh, that could be a problem, couldn't it?"

"No, Martha. Your sentence isn't a problem in Hell."

She smiled, and suddenly looked much younger. "Good, I can't wait to meet Lucifer."

Cupid turned when he heard the garage door open. A horn beeped and he saw Colin's face inside the only other vehicle in the garage. He waved the pair over and Martha got into the driver's side, shoving Colin over.

"Why does she get to drive?" Colin grumped.

"Is your license up to date?" Cupid asked. "Then shut up," he snapped when Colin shook his head.

The car was a small Dodge Neon which was in "Martha's Magnolia," a color custom made for her. She settled in, checked her mirrors, adjusted the seat, flipped down her visor and checked her lipstick and her teeth for lipstick stains. Then she glanced over at her passengers and crossed her arms.

"Martha? What's wrong? We're kind of on a deadline here." Cupid wanted to reach out and shake the woman.

"I don't move until you put on your seat belt, young man. You should actually be in a car seat. You know how many infants are killed in car accidents who wouldn't have been if they were put into a car seat?" Martha peered quizzically at Cupid.

"I am not an infant!" Cupid took a long breath to try and calm himself down. "Fine! Colin, please put on your seat belt." He put on his own.

"Well, you know. No click it, ticket. It is a law you know." Martha turned the key that had been left in the ignition.

The car whirred for a moment, coughed, and sputtered to life. It ran rough for a few minutes, then burped as the engine warmed up. Martha pushed the button for the door locks and they started down the long drive.

"I wouldn't think you would be worried about breaking a law," Cupid muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Martha, just drive."

At the gate, an armed guard came out to stop Martha.

"Oh, he's probably going to be a little upset. I've used my forty-eight hours worth of leave this week already."

Martha was calm and cool. She started speeding up, the little car shaking as the speed increased.

"Martha? What are you doing?" Cupid's voice was panicked, his entire body braced as the gate loomed nearer. The guard jumped out of the way just in time, and Cupid glanced back to see him waving his fist at them. Then he turned back and almost screamed. Martha rammed her front gate, the two ornate metal sides exploding apart as the little Neon collided with them. She swung the wheel to the side and the tires shrieked in protest at the speed that the car was going.

"Wrong way! Wrong way!" Cupid screamed.

"Oh," Martha said calmly and pulled on the emergency brake, swinging the steering wheel around until the car did a 180 in the middle of the road. She slammed down on the accelerator and they were off.

It wasn't long before the first police car showed up behind them, its lights and sirens going. Cupid held his breath as Martha pushed the little car harder, flying around other cars, passing on the right, rolling through busy intersections.

He almost screamed when she took a hand off the steering wheel, reached over, and turned on an oldies station, humming along with Elvis Presley's Jailhouse Rock.

By the time they had reached the first stoplight in Bedford, they had four county cop cars and two state police vehicles following them. Martha slammed on the brakes just as the light turned red, managing to barely miss having the front end of the car run over by a huge semi that was hauling ass. She looked in the rearview mirror and gasped.

"I can't believe it, oh my God. Look at that."

"It's okay, Martha. You just have to stay in front of the cops until we get to Newark." Cupid's voice was low and reassuring, even though he was sure he had done a bam bam in his diaper.

"No, not that. She turned and looked at Colin in the back seat. "Look at all that red dust on my carpet. Get the hand vacuum out of the side panel there and clean that mess up. My Lord, how rude you are." Before he could answer, she slammed down on the accelerator, finding the only small break in traffic and barely skimming through it.

Cupid heard the vacuum running in the back seat, but couldn't turn to look at it. He saw the two police cars ahead, slamming on their brakes and skidding sideways to block off the road ahead of them. Martha saw it too, and calmly turned the wheel, sending the small car over the curb and up onto the wide sidewalk of the prosperous town. People went flying, and a mail box bounced into the road as she caught it with the front bumper, packages and letters scattering to the four winds.

"Someone's electric bill isn't going to be paid this week," she said smiling.

Cupid could barely stand looking out the window. He heard wails from the people desperately trying to get out of the way of the speeding car. Thumps and bumps that he didn't want to investigate came at frequent intervals. He peeked out after one such thump and screamed. A vegetable stand was coming up on the right hand side of the car and he turned, seeing a grim but determined expression upon Martha's face as she clenched the steering wheel harder.

"What are you doing?" he shrieked as she purposely plowed into the side of the stand.

"He always over prices his tomatoes," she said gleefully, as the red, ripe fruit flew into the air, pelting the cop cars that came behind them. The tires thumped over the curb again and she flew towards the on- ramp for the turnpike.

By the time they reached it, police vehicles streamed out behind them in a long trail of blue and red bubbles. A helicopter flew overhead, its speakers on as orders for Martha to pull over to the side of the road and give herself up blared. A voice boomed out from it, "Martha Stewart, this is the police. Pull over to the side of the road and let your prisoners go. Give up the baby, Martha and we'll be lenient on you."

Cupid's face turned red. He rolled down his own window and screamed at the helicopter over their heads. "I'm not a baby, dammit!"

Martha opened her own window a little. She turned and gave Cupid a questioning look, sniffed, and waved a hand in front of her face.

Cupid blushed. "It's your fault, dammit."

Colin broke out laughing.

The rest of the trip was relatively easy. If you consider a scene out of the Blues Brothers movie easy.

Just outside of Newark, NJ, Cupid turned around and saw the police cars start to fall back. The helicopter made one last ditch fly-by and then turned around.

"They quit following us. Why did they quit following us?" he asked no-one in particular.

"Have you ever BEEN to Newark?" Colin asked, laughing.

They ditched the car under the signpost and Cupid turned to Colin. "Your turn."

Colin grabbed Martha's arm, ignoring her hiss of distress as he got red glittery powder all over her pink blouse. Cupid took hold of his pant leg. Colin smiled, snapped his fingers, and the three exploded in a huge ball of fire.

When the flames settled, Cupid got his first look at the interior of Satan's castle.

Shag carpeting ran throughout in shades of reds, grays, and black. The furniture was heavy and dark, scarred with use and time. The artwork on the deep brown paneling was grisly and themed towards mankind's doom, with scenes of war and torture seeming the common thread.

There was a girl seated at a black desk outside a heavily ornate set of double doors. "Do you have an appointment?" she asked in an accented voice.

Cupid took a good look at her, the blonde with the short curly hair and big blue eyes seemed awfully familiar to him.

"Satan should be expecting us," he said. He watched as she got up, his eyes taking in the long skirt and thin hose with the seam in the back that was perfectly straight on each leg. When she knocked on Satan's door, opening it and he heard her speak again, he knew who she was.

Satan had Eva Braun, Hitler's wife, as a secretary.

Lucifer hurried out the door, his hand held out, a huge smile on his eerily handsome face. He took the hand Martha lifted and brought it to his lips, staring down into her eyes in a moment of first meeting, a moment of first love. Cupid expected to see little lovebirds erupt around them.

After a long drawn out moment, Cupid cleared his throat. "Ah, Satan?"

Without looking away from Martha, Satan answered him. "Yes?"

"I've done my part. You've got your dream girl. Now, release the island and let love flow back into the world."

"Oh, I can't do that." The Prince of Lies brought Martha's hand back up to his lips.

"What do you mean, you can't do that?" Cupid was outraged. In the past twenty-four hours, he'd been dropped into the ocean, had ten years of his life scared off of him, been mauled by a demon, molested by a plant, forced to deal with the devil, been in a car chase and had burst into flames. Not to mention being humiliated beyond what a small cherub should have to take. And now, Satan was going back on his word?

"Not yet, anyway. I need to know that this beautiful lady is mine forever. And that you," he said, finally looking at Cupid, "haven't tried to out-deal the devil."

"She's here. Just look in her eyes, she loves you," Cupid said hurriedly. "What more could you want?"

"Well, several things come to mind, including total domination of Heaven and Hell," Lucifer said, chuckling. "But right now, my bride to be and I need time to get to know each other." He waved and snapped his fingers at Colin. "Nice job, Colin."

Colin looked down. The flowers had fallen off his hands and they were back to their normal smooth state. He grinned, rubbing them together to feel the texture minus the ugly flowers.

"And I have someone here who has missed you terribly. You, Cupid, can return to your beloved planet. I will be getting in touch with you before Valentine's Day," he spat the words as if they were a curse. "You'll know one way or another then." He flicked his wrist and Cupid felt himself levitating.

The last thing he heard as he was flown out of the huge castle and up towards earth was a happy cry.

"Mon petit chou, I have missed you so."

* * * *

Now he sat on this curb, a bottle of cheap whisky, hidden in a brown paper bag, in his hands. He looked around at the little town he was in and could see how love was dying. It was in the attitude of the people and the animals around him, the way the sky seemed darker and the trees seemed more sinister, as if they were just waiting to spring on some poor unsuspecting person. He'd watched as a school crossing guard was almost run down by a woman in a minivan who just flipped the woman off as she kept speeding on her way.

The bars were open and it was barely eleven a.m. He'd already seen two fights before he went in and got his own bottle. Caring was gone, behavior among the residents of this small town was slovenly and slothful. Cupid could only wonder what was happening in the big cities.

He sighed, took another sip of the fiery whisky and stared at the arrow in his lap. The feathered end was black as tar, growing lighter until it got the very end of the point which was the only part that was still red. He'd failed. God had given him his first big assignment, had depended upon him to save the race of men and the planet upon which they lived, and he'd let him down.

Two sandal-clad feet dropped down over the curb next to his. He looked up, not knowing who would know where he was, when the dark haired beauty sank down next to him.

Hope leaned over and took the bottle from Cupid's hands, then taking a big swig of it. She grimaced and wiped her mouth on her hand., shuddering at the bite of the liquor.

"You couldn't have gotten a nice Chardonnay?" she asked before taking another drink.

"Hope? You're alive?"

"Yeah," she grinned down at him, handing him back the bottle. "There're three things on this earth that are hard to kill. New York City cockroaches, soap opera stars, and angels. Though the great white shark that followed me all the way from the Triangle to New York sure came close to taking care of one of those."

Cupid stood and wrapped his short arms around Hope's slim neck. "I knew you were too stubborn to drown."

"Looks like we're going to have to head up top soon." She looked at the arrow that had fallen into the street when Cupid stood up. The point was barely gleaming now, just a pin point of crimson left. "I'm going to miss this planet. It was getting smelly and polluted, and the people were a little on the brusque side, but where else are we going to be able to get a corned beef sandwich and a Starbucks coffee, sit in the shade in Central Park and watch some guy get mugged. Dinner and a show." She sighed heavily and stood. "I missed you, Cupid." She bent over and kissed him on the lips, letting her tongue caress his pursed mouth for an instant. Just as she was getting ready to deepen the kiss, flames shot up around him and he was gone.

"Cupid?" Her eyes flew open as she felt the sudden heat. She stared at the tiny black mark where he had been. "Cupid? Oh, no!" She picked up his arrow, turned three times widdershins (counterclockwise for those of you not up on such things) and disappeared.