The Sting

He knew the look as soon as he pushed his way through the glass door. 

Russell stood all squinty eyed with his hands on his hips.  “You. Are. Late.”

Cupid let out an exhausted sigh. “That’s a lot of stairs. Like a thousand.”  He waddled further into the office, all three feet of him.  His dusty blond hair contained spoolies of untamed curls, dipping over his baby blue eyes. “So, what’s the big deal?”

“You are the image of Cupid dot-com.  Without Valentine’s Day, February would be…well, colder.  And from what I see,” Russell thumbed through some papers, “where’s the love, Cupid?”

Cupid shrugged and swiped sleep from his eyes.

Russell thrust a stack of papers in Cupid’s face. “Take this list and start flinging love arrows.”

Cupid tugged up the cloth covering his privates only to have it sag down again under his round belly.  “There’s like hundreds of names on this.  I don’t think…”

“Go!”

Cupid grunted and hoisted the bag of arrows onto his back. 

“And no mistakes this time…like when you shot old Mrs. Krakowski with the gold arrow of uncontrollable desire. She chased that poor young man for days.”

“Okay, I get it.” 


His arrows pinged all day and then it was night.  There was one name left on his list.  “Easy peasey. I do this then grab a beer.” 

The address lead Cupid to a back alley.  He walked in the middle looking from side to side and then a woman came out of the shadows.  She had a girl-next- store quality about her.  “You came.”

“Isabel?” 

“Yes.”

“Who do you want the arrow for?  You want the silver for a love that never dies, or gold for desire, or the special red one for inflaming the love challenged?”

“No. Nothing like that.”  Isabel shivered. “I need for someone not to be in love with me.”

“Huh?”

Then Isabel told her story.  The childhood boy who later turned into a boyfriend and was so in love with her he was going to propose tonight. But, she didn’t love him—enough.  She was in love with another.  He was at a restaurant waiting for her.  A tear rolled down her cheek.  “I know you must think I’m a coward, but I can’t hurt his feelings.”

“Sorry, I don’t have an arrow to remove love.” But an idea did occur to him.  “What restaurant?”

Cupid spotted him immediately.  He sat alone at a table for two.  His name was Tim and he kept checking his watch.  A red rose and a velvet box were arranged in the center of the table.  Cupid paced back and forth and then he found her.  A perky little red-haired girl bounded into the restaurant for take-out, alone.  Tim turned expecting Isabel, but his eyes met Red’s and Cupid flung his last two arrows.

His job was done knowing they felt the sting of love. 

Now, it was Miller time.

Word count: 495