THE GUARDIAN DEVIL

by Tom Witkowski

In a delightful area of the cosmos there is a lovely fern bar where Guardian Angels like to congregate between shifts. The liquor sparkles when poured out of vase-like bottles into elegant, crystal high-balls. The bathrooms get cleaned regularly. Bartenders serve patrons in a fair, orderly fashion rather than in descending breast size. It is a nice place. 

Across the cosmic alley, there is another bar. The glasses do not get cleaned between uses. Broken bar stools have random nails protruding in particularly uncomfortable locations. Vomit in a corner might linger for weeks until it turns to a fine powder and can be swept away with a broom. It is different. It is most decidedly a dump. But Guardian Devils don’t seem to mind. Especially when they are sulking.

A demon named Mammon runs the establishment. Nobody likes him, mostly because he waters down the drinks. He also drools, which is a character flaw for someone who has chosen to prepare and serve liquid as a profession. But there aren’t any other Guardian Devil bars. And even if that angelic fern bar did allow admittance, there would be little interest in mingling with those bleach-soaked, minty do-gooders. After all, who wants to frolic and sing hymns anyway? So, this is where we find the Guardian Devils, including Leonard, of whom this story is about.

Leonard’s regular drink is vodka. It’s been his choice for several centuries. Today, however, Leonard is drinking whisky. Leonard has never overly enjoyed the taste, but whisky tends to hit him harder and faster. This is precisely the effect Leonard desires today. Leonard is experiencing job troubles. 

One might wonder what kind of job troubles a Guardian Devil experiences. Actually, one might wonder what the job of a Guardian Devil actually is. In short, it is the opposite of a Guardian Angel. In long, it is not uncommon to hear someone who has narrowly escaped a near-death event say something to the effect of, “My Guardian Angel must have been looking out for me.” Turns out, that is probably true. Their Guardian Angel stepped in and distracted the bear that was about to eat them or pulled them ever so slightly by the collar away from the Buick that was about to turn them into a hemorrhaging hood ornament. But not everyone makes it out unscathed. Open a paper or visit a news site, and you’ll undoubtedly read about a gentleman who stuck an appendage into the path of a large farm implement or a woman who, while looking at her phone, fell into an open manhole. You can be certain these sorts of incidents are the handiwork of the Guardian Devils, or “Guardians of No Good,” as their moniker goes. They are there whispering into the ear to touch that shiny, spinning blade or knocking over the “SIDEWALK CLOSED” sign like a silent gust of wind. They make it happen. Why do they do it? 

Because they’re assholes. 

Back to the job troubles. Leonard used to love being a Guardian Devil. He was phenomenally effective and talented, employing rather creative and devious methods on his way to receiving many commendations from the Devil himself. Leonard was even Hell’s Employee of the Month in May of 1937 for his role in the Hindenburg Disaster. That was the kind of accident Guardian Devils lived for! But now, Leonard cannot escape the feeling that his brand of work is no longer appreciated. He cannot escape this feeling, because he was told as much when he was called into his supervisor’s office last week.

 “Leonard, your brand of work is no longer appreciated,” Supervisor Balam said.

 “Not appreciated? What do you mean?” Leonard’s eyes narrowed.

 “It’s different now, Leonard. Your methods, while wildly fun and creative and newsworthy, just don’t fit the needs of the modern world. I mean, that caper where you tempted the fellow who hadn’t smoked in ten years to have a quick cig while standing next to the leaky gas main, and the whole neighborhood got leveled…good stuff! Top headline! But now, it’s about quick results. We really just need you to push people in front of buses or trip old folks on stairs. Let’s just get to the point. Keep it clean and simple.”    

 “But any old Guardian Devil can do that. I mean, a first-year can do that. You don’t need me for that.”

 “True. Very true. In fact, we’ve actually discussed that very point. But because you’ve done so much for us over the years, we want you to know you have a job here as long as you want one.”

 “But only if I do it your way?”

 “Glad you’ve caught on.”

Leonard downs his whisky and winces. Not because the whisky burns, but because he can still picture Balam’s smug smile. Balam is a dripping dog dick, Leonard decides. 

Still, Leonard needs a job. So, Leonard pushes people in front of buses and bunches up carpet on the top steps at geriatric homes. Zero thought. Zero creativity. Zero fun. Most times, Leonard does not even stick around to watch. That used to be the best part–seeing it all come together…the “oh, shit!” looks on their faces…hearing the bones crack and splinter…crashing…bursting…popping…the blood…the ensuing chaos…that was compensation in itself. Now, it holds no allure for Leonard. No joy. And a joyless Guardian Devil is not a fun Guardian Devil to be around.

Just ask Leonard’s wife, Janet. Janet works in the administrative office at Guardian Devil HQ. She’s an assistant in the assignments department. She is tired of listening to Leonard complain every night.

 “Leonard, I’m tired of listening to you complain every night,” Janet says.

 “I’m sorry, but this whole thing pisses me off. I didn’t work this hard to become an overpaid first-year. Do you know they did to me today?”

 “No. What?”

 “I got reprimanded for tying a guy’s hoodie laces to the rearview mirror of the bus. The guy still got dragged and flung under the wheels. But they said that was too ‘cutesy.’ They won’t even let me do it in my own way!”

 “The world changes, Leonard. You just have to change with it. Or you have to find something new.”

 “But I’ve never done anything other than Guardian Deviling. What am I supposed to do?”

 “I don’t know. I did hear there was an opening at the office in the complaints department. You seem good at that.”

Leonard spends the rest of the night in silence. In fact, Leonard spends most of his evenings in silence now. The conversations Janet and Leonard do have are riveting. Examples include: “pass the salt,” and “it’s trash day.” Leonard sleeps a lot more. Leonard sighs a lot more. And Leonard visits the bar a lot more.

Leonard also chats more with bar-owner Mammon. True, he possesses an exterior that is inexplicably both crusty and saliva-soaked, however, he offers advice that Leonard finds invaluable. 

Such as: “Go fuck yourself. There are pool cues in da corner if you need somethin’ to do it wit.” 

Or: “Nobody gives a rat’s ass about yer problems. Plus, da rats get pissed off when someone gives der asses away.” 

Often without cue, Mammon uncannily senses that Leonard is in need of a pick-me-up. “Maggots got more sense den you. And d’er easier to look at, too.” 

Leonard understands these comments are not meant to be hurtful. On the contrary, they are puzzles from which Leonard gleans nuggets of wisdom. Leonard dissects them. 

 “The ‘pool cue’ is symbolic of help. If I need it, it’s right around the corner.”

 “The ‘rat’s ass’ alludes to taking responsibility for myself. Because if someone else takes responsibility for me, it might be worse.”

Leonard contemplates the maggot comment for some time. He concludes that particular one was meant to be hurtful.

Leonard spends the next week curbside and in stairwells. After every shove and trip, he closes his eyes and sighs. He is rotting on the inside. He wonders if someone might fling him down a flight of stairs. He hopes.

Janet hands out the assignments one morning. The other Devil Drones, as Leonard now refers to them, collect their charges. Leonard is last in line. 

 “Leonard, could you look any more miserable? You’re gonna get fired just for your body language.”

 “I don’t care.”

 “I do. For starters, we need the money. Plus, everyone comes to me asking, ‘what’s with Leonard? Is he okay?’ I don’t need that.”

 “Sorry my pain is inconveniencing you.”

 “Look, I’m sorry things aren’t going your way right now. But you gotta find a way to make yourself happy in what you do. Find a way to make this job better or get a new one. It’s as simple as that.”

 “I’ll try.”

Leonard stands on Snelling Avenue near 7th Street leaving downtown. Traffic is light, which allows the buses to whizz by at a brisker clip than normal. Dusk is settling in. The sky is overcast. The wind pushes a light rain. In the old days, these were called Deviling Holidays. They are ideal conditions for accidents. 

A balding gentleman in a beige overcoat talks on the phone near the curb, waiting for the light to cross. He is upset and animated, swinging an unopened umbrella about for emphasis, even though the person on the other end of the phone line clearly cannot see him. 

The number 19 bus does not stop at this corner. It stops at the one prior. The driver is an older man who did not sleep well last night due to indigestion. He is drinking coffee from a gallon size travel mug.

Options are about the only thing that make this an exciting moment for Leonard. It could be a simple push on the back to the gent on the corner. But it could be a distracted, tired bus driver who runs a red light. And Leonard gets to choose who will take the blame. A suicidal pedestrian? Or a sleepy public worker? What will the story be?

Leonard decides consuming bad falafel is less of a flaw than being an angry douchebag. Leonard moves up behind the overcoat man. Leonard employs a textbook two-step technique. One hand taps the fella ever so gently on the opposite shoulder, to draw attention away from the oncoming bus. The other hand is placed square on his lower back. 

Here we go. 3…2…timing is everything…1…tap…push. 

Brakes squeal. Horns honk. Onlookers scream. The thud typically comes next. 

It does not.

Leonard sees a man in a beige overcoat desperately grasping the pole of the stop light with the hook of his umbrella handle. His feet are still planted on the curb. But his body is leaning into the street with his face so close to the bus, he could shave with the windshield wipers. Leonard looks closer. The umbrella handle is held to the pole with the assistance of a Guardian Angel, a gleaming white link of a chain between death and survival. 

 “Son of a…” Leonard says.

The Guardian Angel smiles and winks at Leonard before running off. Leonard follows.

Leonard tracks easily because Guardian Angels tend to flit and flutter and hum. He follows the Angel through a set of brass-framed double doors. Leonard immediately gets the feeling he has erred. He is now in the fern bar.

The harp music come to a halt. The hymns tail off. A single gasp fills the void. This is the first time a Guardian Devil has ever stepped foot in this space. He is about as welcome as a weed. 

 “Ummm…pardon me, but I just saw one of you Angel people saving a guy I was scheduled to…uhhhh…delete. Might I have a word with the fellow responsible?” Leonard says.

Nobody responds. Leonard scans the bar, examining all the angel faces. It’s hard to pick one particular face out, what with all the shiny porcelain skin, wavy blonde hair, flowing oversized robes and annoying smiles filled with glinting teeth. 

Leonard spots one angel that appears as though he’s trying not to be noticed. 

“Hey, were you the angel I just saw?” Leonard asks.

“No.” There is a pause where Angel stares at his feet. “Urghhh. Yes, yes it was me.” Guardian Angels are not allowed to lie. “Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be…” Angel completes five Our Fathers and four Hail Mary’s for his attempted fib. Leonard waits, albeit not very patiently. After all, Leonard isn’t versed in such things and does not know how long angel repentance rituals take. Leonard asks if the angel is finished. 

 “When one is not concerned with the fate of their eternal existence, one does not bother to care for their soul, I would imagine,” Angel explains.

Leonard is not sure how to respond to this slight. After all, the very reason he is standing in this repulsive, over-sanitized den of salvation is because he does indeed care about his future. 

 “Why are you here, in this place, that is certainly not for you?” Angel asks.

 “Well, you just looked so joyful and happy after you saved that guy. Like you were having fun.”

 “Doing the Lord’s work is always fun!” Angel beams. Leonard shades his eyes.

 “Whatever…look, I’m sort of…in a rut, I guess you’d say. I want to be more creative in my Guardian Deviling duties, but ‘management’ doesn’t really want that anymore. So, do you think I could maybe, ummm, help you?” Leonard fidgets.

 “Help me with what?”

 “You know…saving.”

Angel laughs so hard that piña colada shoots out his nose. Leonard is fascinated that the expectorated liquid has a great deal of glitter. Leonard concludes glitter is just celestial snot.

Leonard continues: “I just want to feel that energy again. Coming up with a plan and seeing it work. I know it sounds crazy, but right now, I don’t care if I save someone or toss them in a woodchipper. I just want to let those creative juices flow. You don’t know what it’s like to not care about your work.”

 “Wait, you’re capable of caring?”

 “Yes, I care. I care about my work. I care about my wife. I care about lots of stuff. We’re not that different, you and me.”

 “We certainly smell different.” The angel covers his nose with a corner of his robe.

 “Oh, I actually thought this cologne was quite good. I think it’s called Hate & Deception…by Fabergé…ummmm….I…uhhh…guess they probably don’t sell it…at the stores you shop at…” The last words trail off.

 “No, they do not. And for the record, one does not simply up and become a Guardian Angel. It takes centuries of training and apprenticeship.”

 “Please? I mean, I’ve been doing the Guardian thing for eons, just from the other side. I know it all. I just have to save the guy instead of…uhhhh…terminating him.”

Angel lowers his voice. “What will your boss say? What will my boss say?”

“Well, I’ll have to deal with my boss, but I bet your boss would be pretty thrilled that a guy who’s been up to no good for the last couple millennium is now saving ‘em.”

Angel considers this while rubbing his pearly chin. “You make a good point.”

“So…what do you say? Let me help you out?”

Angel realizes, despite the surprisingly rational conversation, he is still talking to a devil–his very opposite. The dark to his light. Trust cannot be assumed. “No. Absolutely not. Now, I, as well as all the others here, would appreciate if you removed your foul self from this establishment.”

Leonard leaves. 

Leonard replays all the jobs he’s pulled. The countless hours put into precise planning and execution. All the inspiring, highlight reel deaths that made other Guardian Devils awed by his ability. Leonard doesn’t want to be a Guardian Devil anymore. Leonard spits on the sidewalk. 

When you are a Guardian Devil, you are invisible. No one sees you coat the sidewalk with phlegm-filled anger. 

Yet, someone does notice.

###

Leonard gets out of bed late the next morning. He contemplates skipping work. He wants desperately to skip work. Leonard tries to fight through it. He rises, albeit more tired than when he got into bed. He does enjoy one pleasant thought–walking past the entrance to Guardian Devil HQ and not stopping, perhaps continuing on until he reaches someplace better. Where there are no bosses or rules or expectations. Maybe disappearing into the mountains. Leonard understands he can’t do that. He still has obligations. So, he does the next best thing. Leonard drinks before work. 

The next week, one drink before work becomes two drinks before work. Two drinks before work soon become two drinks and a coffee tumbler spiked with whisky. Soon, the coffee is omitted from the tumbler.

Leonard messes up an assignment. He pushes the wrong person down the stairs. Supervisor Balam yells at Leonard for the better part of an hour. Leonard falls asleep during the rant. 

Leonard gets suspended. Leonard now has more free time, which he fills with more alcohol. Leonard doesn’t make it home one night.  

The next night, Leonard does make it home. However, he is told he cannot come inside his home, even though his name is on the mailbox. This is told to him by Janet. 

Leonard returns to the bar and consumes more whisky before throwing up and starting a fight with several other Guardian Devils. Minus three teeth, Leonard spends the night slumped against a dumpster.

Leonard awakens to a downpour. It is not rain, however. It is another Guardian Devil urinating on him. It is an unpleasant way to be awoken. But it gets even more unpleasant when a bloody penis lands in Leonard’s lap. Leonard looks up to discover Mammon wielding a weathered machete. A howling Guardian Devil runs off.

“He paid me ta do it.” Mammon points the other direction. Angel appears. 

“For the record, I paid you merely to shag the demon away, not sever an appendage.”

Mammon shrugs and takes his leave.

Angel turns his attention to Leonard. “I see you’ve been enjoying yourself.” 

“Yeah…”

Angel tosses Leonard a handkerchief. Leonard wipes his face.

“Apparently, someone likes your idea.”

“What are you talking about?” Leonard struggles to his feet. The severed penis rolls down his leg onto the pavement. 

Angel leaves a wide berth between the two.

“I’ve been instructed to inquire if your offer of assistance still stands.”

“Who instructed you to ask?”

“A higher-up.”

“A higher-up?”

“Technically, the highest up.”

“God?”

“Yes.”

“Why does God want me to help you?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, if you can’t figure it out for yourself, I’m a bit of a fuck-up right now. I’m pretty sure the only help I’m able to provide is emptying liquor bottles. If that’s what you got in mind, the offer stands.”

“No, not in the least. But there is a hope that you can be of assistance in another capacity, one that might make use of your creative skill set. Can we employ your services?”

Leonard mumbles to himself. “What was I thinking walking into that fern bar…”

“I only make this offer once. And while, it may not be your ideal scenario, it assuredly surpasses your current prospects.” Angel nudges the penis with the tip of his shoe. Leonard dry heaves. “I’ll even give you a day to sleep it off before we begin.”

While hunched over, Leonard gives Angel the thumbs up.

###

Hope has put pep in Leonard’s step. Even if it is forbidden hope. Or perhaps, because it is forbidden hope. Leonard arrives at the meeting location thirty minutes early. While pacing in anticipation, he begins to panic. He thinks, what if I can’t come up with something really creative? What if I screw this up, too? Or what if I succeed? What happens then? What will the other Guardian Devils say? What will Janet say when she finds out? He can feel the anxiety coursing through every inch of his being, tightening his joints and muscles. Putting knots upon knots in his stomach. 

Then another thought hits Leonard: this is the way he used to feel. Back in the old days. The way he felt prior to tackling the jobs that made him really happy. The way he felt before the Hindenburg job. Leonard considers, this is how he knows he’s truly alive. Leonard has not felt this way in some time.

Angel skips and twirls down the street. Songbirds float overhead, serenading him. 

“Oh good! You’re here. I had my doubts,” Angel says.

“Let’s just get started, Snow White.”

“Very well.” Angel snaps his fingers. A manila file folder appears. “Before we begin, you must know the one main rule. Guardian Angels cannot ever, under any circumstances, alter the situation the human is in. We rescue, not prevent.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“Say a woman is climbing a mountain. We cannot make her decide to not go mountain climbing that day or drop a tree in her path so she chooses a different route. We cannot skirt her away from danger. We cannot stop her from slipping and falling. We must react and save. Other than that, you are free to do as you wish.” 

“Got it.”

Angel opens the folder. “Now, in thirty-seven seconds, a man, two stories up on a ladder cleaning his gutters, will topple when his ladder slides.”

“Thirty-seven seconds?!”

Angel snaps his finger. 

“Twenty-six now.”

The two are now in a suburban neighborhood. A man wearing work gloves, sagging jeans and suspenders is on an extension ladder leaning against a white house with black shutters. He reaches for a clump of leaves layered in the gutter. Leaning on one foot, heavily to one side, the man causes the ladder to lose stability. It slides. 

“Go.” Angel says.

“Holy shit,” Leonard cusses as he dashes into action. 

Angel does not approve.

The man grasps for the gutter. His gloves are coated with slime. They slip off the edge. He yelps while flailing toward the ground.

As he hits, leaves puff into the air, like feathers from a pillow. He has landed on three large bags full of raked-up fall foliage. He does not remember placing them there. A mere second after he lands, though, the ladder falls on him, gashing his forehead and knocking him unconscious. His wife runs out upon hearing the ruckus and tends to him. He will be okay.

Leonard rejoins Angel.

“You forgot about the ladder. You are fortunate it didn’t kill him,” Angel chides.

“No, he’s the fortunate one.”

Angel scowls.

“I saved him though. How about a ‘good job, Leonard’?”

“Using the bags was predictable. I thought we were getting a creative genius?”

“Harsh. Especially considering I had all of twenty seconds to figure something out.”

“That’s sixteen seconds longer than we usually get.”

Leonard stews. “All right, Angel, what would you have done?”

“The best rescues are achieved when the person believes pure luck saved them. Example: that man knows he did not leave the bags there. Fortunately, the blow to the head will erase that.”

“So, what you’re saying is that, technically, it worked out perfectly.”

“Hardly. He should believe it was luck. We, however, do not believe in luck to get the job done. Understood?”

“Yeah…”

Leonard goes home with mixed emotions. He did experience that rush again. The adrenaline of the action. The thrill of seeing something in his mind come to life and succeed. On the flipside, Angel didn’t seem too impressed. Plus, he saved somebody instead of offing them. It was a bit like cheating on his own past. Leonard decides it was worth it. 

Leonard helps Angel save two people the next day. The highlight for Leonard was tempting a man to steal another man’s wallet at the baseball game. The man reached down to the row in front to pickpocket a billfold, and in doing so, moved his head out of the way of an oncoming foul ball that would have hit him square in the temple. 

Angel is incensed. “We do NOT tempt people into committing crimes in order to save their lives!” 

“You sure got a lot of rules,” Leonard says.

Angel possibly says a swear word.

Despite the scolding, Leonard goes home with a smile on his face. Janet notices. 

“Good day?”

“Yeah.” 

“What were you up to?”

“Oh, just helping out a buddy with some work stuff.”

“Yeah? What kind of stuff?”

“You know, odds and ends. Miscellaneous junk.”

Janet isn’t dumb. Leonard’s elusiveness hides something. But his improved mood is more valuable to her than delving deeper into the matter. Especially since she also notices there are a few extra bucks in the checking account. 

###

Angel won’t admit it, but Leonard is performing admirably. He is a fast study, and the methods he employs are indeed imaginative, albeit occasionally verging on questionable. But this is why they hired him. 

Leonard won’t admit it, but he is enjoying himself. The job challenges him, although saving people still moderately irritates him, like a sock that slumps after losing its elastic. But this is why they hired him.  

Since everybody seems silently satisfied, Angel informs Leonard of a big assignment that will soon come his way. Leonard smiles.

Leonard then frowns. He frowns because he receives word that his suspension with the Guardian Devils is over. Balam would like to see him immediately for reinstatement.

“Ahhh, Leonard. Good to see you. You are looking well. Glad to see you have put your troubles behind you,” Balam says.

Leonard still wants to use a carrot peeler on Balam’s face but knows he must play the game. “Ready to get back at it, if you’ll be good enough to have me.” Leonard can act.

“We have some basic assignments for you today, just to get you back into the swing of things.”

“Sounds good.”

“And you’ll be accompanied by Oriax. He’ll be overseeing your work.”

“I’ve always worked alone. Is that really necessary?”

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Balam smiles an asshole smile.

Leonard looks around for a carrot peeler. 

###

For the next several weeks, Leonard dutifully goes about his business as a Guardian Devil under the watchful eyes of Oriax. Leonard actually doesn’t mind Oriax being there, although he smells like the offspring of pig shit and Brussels sprouts. Leonard does each job with precision and efficiency. As he is told.

By night, Leonard dutifully goes about his business as a Guardian Angel under the watchful eyes of Angel, who smells like candy canes. Leonard does each job with care and resourcefulness. As he is told.

This dual life agrees with Leonard. But he feels a distinct tug toward one. 

###

Janet does some digging. The extra money puzzles her, and in her case, curiosity is an incurable disease. She discovers the deposits are being made in cash. While that fact provides no answers, it does confirm Leonard is going to some effort to hide its source.

She goes through Leonard’s wallet. She finds nothing. She examines transaction records. She finds nothing. She hacks into Leonard’s email. She finds nothing. She sifts through Leonard’s pants pockets, looking for any clues–a receipt, a note, a business card. She finds nothing. Just a strange smattering of glitter.

###

“Topnotch, Leonard. You’ve really turned things around,” Supervisor Balam commends.

“Thanks.”

“In fact, we’re so impressed, we have a big job for you. Big, big job. High priority. Important stuff, you know. Up to the task?”

“Of course.”

“Good. Good. Because we want you to know that, even though you’ve gone through a rough patch, you’ve really righted the ship. Become the month’s top performer. And we want to reward you for that.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, we know this transition hasn’t been simple for you. But you’ve embraced it. Been a fine example to all the other Devils. So, if you can pull off this next job, we are prepared to offer you a rather sizable pay raise.”

“Wow. Thank you…wait…what’s the catch?”

“Oh, my dear Leonard. At some point, hopefully you and I can learn to trust one another.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” Leonard lies. “It’s just that this comes out of the blue.”

“That’s how important this job is.”

“I see. Well, what is it?”

###

Janet can no longer bite her tongue. At dinner, she finally broaches the subject.  

“Leonard, I know you have this side-gig going, but what it is?”

Leonard feared this would come up. Yet he hasn’t prepared a sufficient answer. “I’m helping a friend.”

“Yeah, you told me that. What exactly are you doing?”

“Just helping out here and there.”

“Helping out doing what?”

“Whatever he asks me to do.”

“Leonard, I need an answer. Who are you helping?”

“Don’t worry about it. Okay?”

“No. It’s not okay. You’re obviously hiding something from me. I think I have the right to know what you’re doing.”

“You told me to either make my job as a Guardian Devil better or find something different. I’m only doing what you told me to do.” Leonard grabs his plate and gets up from the table. 

“That’s fine. I’m happy about that. I just need to know what that is!”

“I said, ‘don’t worry about it.’” Leonard dumps the rest of his dinner in the trash, tosses his plate in the sink and storms off. He immediately regrets not coming up with a good excuse. It would have been simpler to say he’s been helping out with Devil Tech or Devil Recon or even flipping burgers at McDevil’s. Why didn’t I just do that? he wonders. 

Leonard ruminates as he walks the streets. He is both proud and not proud of the last few months. He is a torn being. Maybe deep down, he wants somebody to know he’s been up to good. Maybe he wants to share his success with his wife again, even if it’s the opposite of what success used to be. Leonard finds himself outside the bar. He thinks about going in. Ordering a double. Feeling it burn his troubles away. He reaches for the door handle. But he stops. Because there is something he does not wish to jeopardize. 

###

Leonard arrives at Guardian Devil HQ the next morning. Balam is waiting for him at the door. This has never happened before.

“Leonard, let us talk.”

“About what?”

“Come with me.”

Leonard is led into a small conference room. There are already two others there. One he knows. The other he does not.

“I believe you know Janet. And this is Mr. Demogorgon. He is from Satan’s office. They’re both going to be joining us for this little chat.”

Leonard takes a seat. He is offered coffee, but he refuses. He is anxious enough.

Balam begins. “Leonard, just as you had gotten back into our bad graces, it seems you find yourself in hot water again. You see, it has come to our attention that you may be spending some time with our friends to the north, if you catch my drift.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh, I think you do.” Balam produces a small baggie filled with glitter. “Your wife found this in an article of your clothing.”

Leonard shoots Janet a look that could bring down a charging rhinoceros. 

“She also has noted some supplemental income that you’ve been rather elusive in explaining.”

Leonard remains silent.

“Further, Mr. Demogorgon has been given reports of Guardian Angel rescues that seem to have some eerily similar hallmarks of the kind of handiwork for which you’ve been known.”

Leonard shrugs.

“You do know fraternizing with angels is an offense punishable by eternal banishment, don’t you?”

Leonard raises his eyes to meet Balam’s. “Yes, I do.” There is not an ounce of hesitation in his answer.

Balam’s tone shifts. It sounds very rehearsed. “Leonard, we certainly understand if you’ve been tempted. Anybody with your impressive tenure and extensive track record, being pressured to change his style, being suspended, could easily wander away from the flock. It wouldn’t be the first time. Completely understandable. It’s okay. We can work something out if that’s the case. But we just need to know. Are you working with angels?”

Leonard’s eyes remain locked with Balam’s. “No.”

“Do you care to explain the glitter, the income and the angel reports?”

“Sure. The glitter must have come when I got into a fight with an angel at one of my assignments before my suspension. He saved a guy I was supposed to throw in front of a bus, and I chased him down. If you’ve ever cracked an angel before, you know glitter comes out of their noses.” 

Balam looks over at Demogorgon for confirmation. He nods.

“The money came from gambling…on my ‘sabbatical,’ I spent time rolling dice in the alleys. Guess I’m lucky.”

Janet chimes in. “You’ve never gambled before.”

“I’ve also never been a fall-down drunk before. Funny what that does to a guy’s judgement.” 

Balam proceeds. “And the reports?” 

“I have no idea. Perhaps you should ask an angel.”

The room remains silent. Three sets of eyes are fixed on one, examining and prodding for cracks. Today, they won’t find any.

###

Leonard is allowed to return to Guardian Devil duties. Against Balam’s wishes, he is still assigned the big job.

“You very well may remember this fellow, Leonard,” Balam begins. “He was the one you were supposed to push in front of a bus a few months back.”

Leonard opens the file. It is indeed the balding overcoat man that Angel saved. “What’s so important about this guy?” Leonard inquires.

“He is a biological chemist. And quite a critical one. Currently, he is the only human that possesses the knowledge to treat a certain biological attack. If he dies, that assault goes on, followed by a large-scale world war. Should he live, that chain of events ceases.”

“I see.” 

“I’m being authorized to give you the freedom to accomplish this any way you wish. We don’t care if it’s clean, complicated, difficult or daring. Just get it done. If you’re successful, your pay will be doubled, and we’ll all be given the better part of the next century off while disease and war sort out humanity.”

“Got it.”

“And just so you know, Leonard, failure will not be met with any tolerance. At all. For your sake–for Janet’s sake–do not mess this up again. Good luck, Leonard.”

Someone once taught Leonard that luck doesn’t get jobs done. That’s why Leonard isolates himself in his office to lay out a meticulous plan. It is innovative and risky, yet plausible. However, he also plans for contingencies. His work as a Guardian Angel has made his mind nimble, quick and reactive, but he attempts to envision everything that could possibly derail his plan. He subsequently prepares for each. He is buttoned up and confident. He is ready.

There is one scenario, however, for which he fails to prepare. 

###

The balding man is again wearing his overcoat, although today, it is misbuttoned. His mind is on his work as he leaves his unkempt, cluttered apartment. He gets in the elevator, encountering a fellow resident who moves as far away as elevator walls allow. Eye contact is avoided at all costs. The balding man is well-known for being a grouch. He proves it in spades when he yells at the doorman to get out of his way. One wonders if he might be nicer to people if he knew this might be his last day on Earth.

There is a construction site four blocks away on Marquette Avenue. A condo complex rises out of the site of an old dry-cleaning building. Flatbed trucks full of iron and steel and concrete go in and out all day long. Cement mixers run nonstop. Large metal girders are hoisted by behemoth cranes. This is a suitable place for a distracted man to die.

At exactly 8:42 am, a man in a misbuttoned overcoat will walk by the entrance to the site. Twenty seconds prior, a complex but precise series of accidents will be set into motion. A hard helmet worn by a worker on the 4th floor will be blown off. It will tumble two stories before hitting a welder who is operating a blow torch. Dazed, the welder will scorch the backside of another worker, who will drop the hammer he is using. On the way down, the hammer will strike a girder that is being lifted by a crane. The hammer will ricochet into the cab of a moving cement truck. The driver will be knocked unconscious, and the truck will ram into a dump truck. The dump truck will fall on its side, knocking three stories of scaffolding over. A generator on top of the scaffolding will plummet three stories to the sidewalk below, only to be spared when it lands on a man in a misbuttoned overcoat, who will not be as fortunate. 

It is a complex plan. It is possibly a too-complex plan, even with many contingency plans in place, including the 134 Express bus that, as fate would have it, will be humming along Marquette Avenue at that time. But if this is his last shot at creativity, or if this is the one that can turn the tide back in that direction, Leonard must take the chance. It is the ultimate Rube Goldberg of Devil deeds. He is more excited than he has ever been. 

A chemical genius who cannot correctly button his overcoat turns the corner around a construction site. He is again yelling into his phone. If things go as planned, he has approximately one hundred seconds left on this Earth.

This is when the scenario that Leonard did not plan for presents itself. Angel appears next to him on the 4th story of a partially constructed building.

“Oh good, Leonard. You’re actually right in the perfect spot today. I have that big job for you.” 

“Uhhh…you kinda caught me at a bad time. I’m in the middle of something.”

“Apologies, but you are needed at this very moment. This is the job that was sent down specifically for you–from on-high! You see that fellow down there turning the corner?” Angel points directly at someone Leonard was already watching. “You need to save that gentleman in the overcoat from a construction accident.”

###

Even if you’ve never personally been in a position where you are charged with simultaneously saving and killing the same guy, while your fate, as well as the fates of your wife, your career and the world hang on a decision that must be made in seconds, it doesn’t take long to arrive at one definitive truth: Leonard is officially fucked.

Leonard looks at Angel. He breathes in deeply and slowly exhales, after which a hint of smile tucks itself onto Leonard’s cheeks. Then he turns and tips the construction worker’s helmet forward.

It topples downward.

It hits a welder.

With blowtorch still blazing, the welder ambles.

His torch scorches another worker.

The worker drops a hammer.

The hammer sails toward the ground.

It clanks against a hoisted steel girder and redirects.

It flies through the open window of a cement mixer.

The driver is hit on the side of the head.

He is knocked out.

His mixing truck continues onward.

It T-bones a dump truck.

The dump truck falls into a set of scaffolding.

The scaffolding lurches.

It buckles and tips.

There is a large generator at the very top. 

It slides to the end and is launched off.

It sails toward the sidewalk.

There is a man walking on that sidewalk wearing a misbuttoned overcoat yelling into a phone.

He is the bullseye, and the arrow is falling construction equipment.

For the second time in this story, the man in the overcoat sidesteps death. This time, literally. One instant before a gas-powered cannonball will flatten him, he notices a stray $20 bill drifting down the street. He bends over to pick it up. As he does, he feels a breeze blow by his ear. A large generator narrowly misses him and shatters on the sidewalk in front of him. 

Angel and Leonard invisibly flank a quivering man in a misbuttoned overcoat. 

“It was you! You blew the $20 bill. You saved him!” Angel says with surprise in his voice.

“Yeah…” Leonard is shaking. The man in the misbuttoned overcoat is shaking more.

“For a moment, I thought you were trying to kill him.”

“I was.”

“I imagine, that’s not going to go over well with your employer. You’re, umm, going to be in deep shhhhhhh—” Angel trails off.

“Yeah…”

“But you saved him…you saved him.”

Angel looks at Leonard. Then Angel breathes in deeply and slowly exhales, after which a hint of smile tucks itself onto his cheeks. Then Angel shoves the man in the misbuttoned overcoat right into the street, right in front of the rumbling 134 Express bus. He will not survive this time.

“AHHHHHHH….WHY DID YOU DO THAT?! WHY DID YOU DO THAT, YOU DUMB SON OF A BITCH?!” Leonard is frantic. “I SAVED HIM!”

“Yes. You saved him, Leonard.”

“SO WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” Leonard is hysterical. “YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO SAVE!”

“I did.” Angel pauses, then looks straight into Leonard’s eyes. “I saved you. That was my assignment.”

Leonard is silent. His anger and confusion and anxiety cause him to pace uncontrollably and mutter incoherently. He throws his arms up at Angel. “But…but…the chemical assault! The war! What about humanity?!” 

“Well,” Angel gazes off at the horizon. “Sounds to me like the Guardian Angels will be a bit busier now.” With great calm, he turns to Leonard. “So…care to get started?” 

Leonard asks if they can have a drink first. 

An angel and a devil confirm with a handshake. Then, two angels depart. 

THE END