It was an astute night that I witnessed a most queer
moment.
I had barely bellied up against the bar as they
started.
One donned slicked back black hair, the other's locks long blonde and
dingy.
Two normal guys swapping philosophies on God and
Angels.
"Angels, I'll believe in 'em when I see 'em!" was
shouted.
In Response, "You mean to tell me you need proof that they
exist?
Well! Perhaps you missed your mother's first look the day you
arrived
kicking and screaming she held you tight, counting toes and
fingers.
If that's not an Angel, I don't know what else you would
require."
"How about the fact she was an alcoholic and
druggie
You weren't there when she beat me bloody, after speed and
whiskey
she mistook me for a fucking rat, cracking my small
body.
If that's an Angel, then I suggest you had best look
again."
Just as the words leaked from his face he reached to grab the
mullet
and slammed that face so hard into the bar that it quit
breathing.
"Now, if you are fucking lucky you'll see yourself some
Angels!"
I chuckled and sipped down my frosty brew, those god damned
Angels.
