Art and the philosophy of life

Archive for the ‘Lucy’ Category


“I like you apartment,” said Michael looking around.  “It’s welcoming and comfortable.  I like that it’s all white and the cats make it feel like a real home.”

“It IS a real home, silly.  I live here, remember,” laughed Lucy, dropping tea bags into thick white mugs.

“Are we going to have cookies too?” asked Michael, excitedly.

“Naturally, they’re for the tea.”

“Are you going to tell me about this neighborhood?”

“If you’re sure you want me to.”

“I want you to.  Definitely.”

“I have to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches before the cookies come out of their box, or that’s all we’ll eat.  Grape or strawberry jam?” she asked.

“Strawberry,” said Michael.  “Thank you.”

The kettle whistled loudly and Lucy poured the scalding water into the mugs.  Then she fed the cats, gave them treats, and watered the plant on the kitchen windowsill.

“Okay,” she said, bringing the food to the table.  “This is what’s going on,” she mumbled, taking a bite out of her sandwich, then holding up her hand, telling him to wait until she swallowed.  “Remember I told you that I was a writer?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, I’m a different kind of writer..”

“What kind of writer are you?”

“I don’t write books, actually. I write stories in my mind and, truthfully, I’m not so much a writer as, um, a character.”

“You mean quirky and funny, the way some people are?”

“No, not like that,” said Lucy, sipping her tea.  “I used to BE a character in a book.”


“I was a character in a terrifying story where I was always afraid, always running away from terrible things, always being hurt.  I was scared, all the time, and horrible things were happening to those around me. I just couldn’t stand it any longer.  Every page was a nightmare and…”

“”It’s okay,” said Michael, putting his hand on top of hers.  “You don’t have to say anymore.”

“I want to tell you,” said Lucy, the cats huddled in a pile around her feet.  “I wrote my own story, so that when I was in the cell being tortured, I could escape to someplace else.  The more I did it, the more real, ‘someplace else’ became.  I loved the people in my story and they started to love me and then, it all became real and I never went back to the other story again.  So, I live here now.  I’m happy and I’m not afraid anymore.”

“Uh,” said Michael.

“I don’t think people who write stories know what they put their characters through. I left people back in those pages.  I keep trying to go back for them, but I can’t find the story any longer and they are trapped there.  Suffering.”

“I’m sorry, Lucy.  I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying.”

“They are being tortured, all because someone wrote that they should be.”

“I didn’t realize…”

“No one realizes, what the characters in a book go through. Billy’s sister escaped form a book where she was sick all the time.  I’ve tried to help her but the words have her partially trapped, although she’s getting better.  I gave her a puppy because there was no puppy in her book, so that’s helping her write a new story of her own.”

“I don’t know what to say,” whispered Michael.

“There’s nothing to say.  I made this place a sanctuary, for characters who were able to escape from their books.  Josie was written as a demon.  She was made to guard a doorway to hell and she was forced to do things she didn’t want to do.  She runs the bookstore now and she’s at peace, but she’s still a demon and she can be vicious, so she watches out for us. Joe was in a story about the mob.  He grew up being beaten, by men who though it was funny to hit a little kid, so he grew up tough. He killed a lot of people in his book, people he didn’t want to kill.  Now he has time to bake, read and raise hamsters.  No one makes bread as delicious as his.  Billy was written as a junkie, a graffiti artist, who gets hooked on heroin.  He was always waking up in dirty alleys and he always felt terrible.  He escaped and now he’s s big brother to Kat.  He always wanted a family, he never wanted to do drugs, and he’s a fantastic artist.

“What about the cookie lady?”

Lucy smiled.  “When she escaped, she managed to get her dog out as well.  She was written as a werewolf and forced to change shape at the full moon.  She said she can still feel the moon’s pull and she does love to run through the woods, because being a wolf made her feel alive, but hunters were always shooting her.  She never bit anyone, she just wanted to be left alone, but the story line was brutal, she said, so she took her pup and ran.”

“Is everyone here an escapee from a book?”

“Yes. Everyone.”

“Everyone, except me, you mean.”

Lucy smiled at him and opened the box of cookies.  “Michael,” she said softly, “escapees’ are the only one’s who can find this place.”

“What are you saying, Lucy?”

“I’m saying that it may take a day or two for you to remember the rest of your story, but you’re finally free, Michael.  Welcome home.”





Lucy…19 Tomorrow is the last chapter…

Michael stood, holding the bag of books and the bag of bread.  The bread smelled delicious, so he opened the white bread and took the heel out of the bag.  He sighed.  It was perfect, crusty on the outside and soft and delicious on the inside.  Lucy was right, best bread ever.

“You the guy bothering Lucy?” said a teenage boy.

“No, I’m not.”

“I think you are,” said the kid.

“You’re wrong.  I’m just waiting for someone.”

“Who you waitin’ for?”

“Not your concern, young man,” said Michael, stiffly.

“Who you calling a young man?”

“You, since you’re the only one here and you’re the one I’m speaking to.”

“You think you’re funny?” asked the kid, stepping closer.

“Most people are funny now and then, so, yes, I think I’m funny.”

“What’s in the bags?”

“Nothing you’d want, unless you’d like a slice of bread.  The white is delicious.”

Lucy came out of the bakery, a smile on her face.  “Oh, I see you’ve met Billy.  Hi Love, how’s you sister.”

“She’s doing a lot better, since you gave her the puppy,” said Billy, suddenly shy.

“This box of cookies is for you and your sister,” said Lucy, taking a box out of the crisp white bag.   “I was going to drop them off on the way home, but you saved me a trip,” she said hugging him tightly.

“Thanks Lucy.  Kat will love them.”

“I made sure there are lots of snowballs in there, since they’re your favorites.”

“Marry me. Please,” said Billy.

“Maybe later,” she laughed.  “See you on christmas.”

“I won’t stop askin’ til you say yes,” he said, waving.

“Okay, I feel as if I’m in a sappy black and white holiday movie and it’s starting to get to me.  You do know that Josie isn’t human right?  And what’s with the mob affiliated bread maker and the weird street kid?  He has a switchblade and he wanted to cut me.  They all want to hurt me, but I don’t know what I’ve done.”

“Don’t worry about it.” said Lucy, pulling a slice of bread out of one of the bags.

“It’s too strange to be ignored.”

“Like the angels in the bistro?”

“Yes, like that.  But I told you about them because you had a lot of questions.”

“I can tell you about this, but I don’t think you’ll like what I have to say.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just what I said.  There is a reason that things are the way they are but you might not like the reason.”

“How do you know? Has this happened before?”

“Once or twice,” said Lucy.




Lucy…18 (story ends on Tuesday)

“Read these,” said Josie, dropping three books onto the counter.  “My Solstice gift to you, girlfriend.”

“Thank you,” said Lucy.  “Best present ever.”

Michael stared at the demon and the demon stared back.  “Can I have another sucker, please?”

Josie put everything into a canvas bag and grabbed Lucy’s hand.  “If you need help, call me anytime and I’ll be with you immediately.”

“You are the sweetest,” said Lucy, leaning across the counter, kissing Josie on the check. “Thank you.”

“Where to now?” asked Michael.

“The Breadbasket.  You’ll love it there and the smell is so amazing.  They bake all their bread on site and they have free samples that are to die for.”

“People die for bread samples?” asked Michael, in amazement.

“Not literately, it’s just saying.”

“Oh, good,” said Michael, taking the heavy bag out of Lucy’s hand.

“Thanks,” she said, turning into the shop.

“Hi Lucy,” said the man behind the counter.  “The usual?”

“Yes please,” she nodded.

“What’s the usual?” asked Michael.

“White bread, thickly sliced, cinnamon raisin, thinly sliced, nine grain, sliced however, and four poppy seed rolls.”

“That’s a lot of bread.”

“Staff of Life and all that,” she grinned.  “Besides, you need bread for every meal, right?  So cinnamon for breakfast, unless you make French toast with white bread, and then you need grain for sandwiches and rolls for veggie burgers, so you need a lot of bread.”

“That makes sense, I guess.”

“Who’s this guy?” asked the dark haired, amazingly good looking, man behind the counter.

“Michael, this is Jerry…Jerry, this is Michael, he’s an angel.

“He better be,” said Jerry, looking Michael in the eyes.  “You hear me?”

“I have perfect hearing, so yes, I do hear you.”

“You have any problems with this guy, you call me, I’ll take care of him.”

“Thank you so much Jerry.  I’ll be fine, but you know I’m crazy about you.”

Jerry laughed and smiled at her.  “I mean it.  Call me if you need me.”

Michael grabbed the shopping bag full of bread and looked at Lucy.  “What is it with these people?  What are they all trying to protect you and telling you to call them?”

Lucy shrugged.  “This is my neighborhood and we take care of each other.”

“Uh, no,” said Michael.  “Not good enough, something else is going on around here.”

“Like what?”

“No idea, but this isn’t normal.”

“You’re going to love the bakery,” said Lucy, pulling open the door.

“Lucy,” said an older woman, coming from behind the counter to hug her.  “I love it when you come in and oh, look, you brought a young man with you,” she said, frowning at him.

“This is Michael.  Michael, this is Rose.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Michael, smiling.

“We’ll have to see about that,” said Rose, giving a sniff and moving to the cookie jar on the counter.  “For you sweet one,” she said to Lucy, handing her a gingerbread girl.  “This is for you,” she added, handing a small fudge ball to Michael.

“Thank you,” said Lucy, taking a bite out of the cookie and moaning.  “You are the best baker, ever,” she sighed.

“Where did you get this one,” asked Rose, pointing at Michael?

“We just met today.  We had lunch.  He’s my guardian angel.”

“Is that what he told you?”

“Yes, that’s what he told me,” said Lucy, finishing off the cookie.

“That’s what I AM,” said Michael, huffily.  “Why is everyone treating me like I’m…”

“The Devil?” asked Rose.

“What?” said Michael.

“Why is everyone treating you like the Devil,” repeated Rose, more loudly.

“I didn’t say that, I just mean that everyone is suspicious about my intentions,” said Michael.

“And?” said Rose, tying a string around a white cardboard box full of cookies.

“I didn’t DO anything wrong,” he said, grabbing another small cookie off the tray on top of the counter.

“Not yet,” said Rose, moving the cookie plate away.

“What is WRONG with you people?” he said.  “Lucy, I’ll be out in front.”





Michael leaned across the counter, “I won’t hurt her,” he whispered.

“If you do, I’ll come after you,” smiled Josie, nastily.  “And that’s not something you’re gonna want me to do.”

“We’re just having fun and I like it here.”

“I’ve heard that before,” said Josie.

“Really?  From who?” asked Michael, surprised.  “And your a demon, so you’re not supposed to be here either.”

Josie hissed at him.  “My kind were here before you were even a whisper in the dark sky.”

“Add this to my bill,” said Lucy, putting a couple of magazines on top of the books. Oh, and this, she laughed, adding a stuffed penguin to the mix.  “I’m naming him Dresden, after a wizard who lives in Chicago and can I have a sucker, please?” asked Lucy.

Josie dug through the sucker jar, pulled out a red one and handed it to Lucy.  She gave Michael a blue one.  “No one likes the blue one’s she said, glaring at him.”

“Lots of others are watching you guys.  Some of them are bad,” said Michael, staring at Josie, “but some are good, while others are neutral.  Most don’t care about you at all, so they don’t come here.  Your government knows all about aliens but won’t tell you.  They don’t tell you anything.  You pay them to treat you’re like a bunch of servants. Why do you let them lie to you all the time?  Any of us can do anything we want to do to this place because you don’t have a clue about what’s going on around you.  Do you have any books that can tell you the truth?  NO, you do not, because the people who know the truth, don’t want YOU to know the truth.  Can I have another sucker.  Orange, please.”

“First of all,” said Lucy, “who decides what’s good or bad?  Second, we all hate the government, well most of us, anyway.  Third, I was going to cook for the party but I think I’ll just order a bunch of pizza’s.  Our government hates us,” said Lucy, turning to Michael. “They are greedy, elitists, who are only interested in promoting themselves and making more money, while they gather power.  They are pretty much trying to destroy the masses but none of us are sure what to do about it.”

“Revolution comes to mind,” said Michael.

“Do we have any books on how to overthrow the government, or how to bring them down?” asked Lucy.

“What do you think?” sighed Josie.  “Who do you think controls the presses?  Who do you think owns the publishing companies and the entire media?  Of course we don’t have anything that will teach us how to fight them.  I have books by philosophers that tell the truth, but they aren’t big sellers because people don’t even know what questions to ask and besides, many don’t want to know the truth.  Go on line, that’s where people are publishing their own stuff.”

“What do you think about the pizza idea?” asked Lucy.

“I don’t think you should have them over at all,” answered Josie.  “What about the books?”


Josie left the counter to grab a couple books.

“It won’t do any good,” said Michael.  “They’re too powerful.  You waited too long and even if you try and hit them, they have all the guns.”

“Maybe we’ll have angels on our side,” said Lucy, smiling at him and envisioning an army of gigantic angels in pale pink and yellow, sherbet green and lilac, getting rid of the government in no time at all.

“We don’t usually take sides,” said Michael, thoughtfully.  “But no one has ever asked us for help, I mean real, physical help.  Maybe we could do something to change things. Besides, we love to fight, and think of all the hearts we could have, without hurting any nice people.”

“Works for me,” smiled Lucy.  “Seriously, it does.”

“I think pizza’s a good idea but you’ll need a lot of them.”






“If you’re looking for priests, you should write your book about Rome.  There are a lot of bad guys there.”

“Maybe, but Rome isn’t Paris and I love Paris.”

“But for the sake of the story, you may want to rethink that.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said, trying not to laugh. “Anyway, I have to pick up some books,” said Lucy, opening the door at, MAY ALL YOUR DREAMS COME TRUE.

“What a great name for a bookstore,” whispered Michael, as he stared at the shelves. “Oh, you won’t like this one,” he said, brushing his hand across a brightly colored cover.  “This one either, or that one,” he mumbled, pointing at one book, then another.

“Thank you,” sighed Lucy.

“Oh, LOOK, they have magic wands,” said Michael excitedly, sliding a red plastic wand with a blue star on top, out of a bin.  “What kind of magick do they do?”

“They make kids believe they can actually DO magick.”

“Oh, so you’re saying they’re toys, or play things?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.”

“Have you ever tried one,” he asked, shaking the wand toward the bookshelf marked Mysteries.

“Actually, I have not.”

Michael said a few words that Lucy didn’t understand and then putting the wand back into it’s bin.  “Don’t they have any real ones?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Should I ask someone who works here, where they keep them?”

“”Sure, why not.”

“l’ll be right back.”

Lucy smiled and picked up a book.

“They’re out of stock,” said Michael, a few minutes later, disappointment clear on his face. “The man said they might get more real ones in next month.”

“Lucy!,” said a dark-haired woman, with tattoos running down both arms.  “Your books are finally in.  They would have been here sooner but one of them came from Paris, so it took a bit longer than usual.”

“Josie, you are so good to me,” said Lucy, falling into her arms.  “Thank you.”

“Who is this?” she asked, putting her hand on Michael’s shoulder.  “Ah,” she said, moving away quickly.  “Strong energy and not human, so what are you doing with him?”

“We just met today. He’s my guardian angel, or at least he thinks he is.  I’m having a get together for a few of his friends on christmas eve.  You are more than welcome to join in the festivities.”

“Mmmmm,” said Josie.  “Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Probably not,” admitted Lucy.

Josie touched Michael again and looked at Lucy.  “He thinks he loves you, or some version of love,” she said.  “I’ll have your books by the register and be careful around this one,” she grunted and nodded toward Michael.

“How did she know all that about me and why did you tell her who I was?”

“She’s a witch and a sensitive, among other things. She can tell a lot about people when she touches them.”

“She doesn’t like me,” he said, watching Josie put Lucy’s books behind the counter.

“She doesn’t even know you,” said Lucy.  “Come on, I’ll get my books and we can go to the bakery.











“Penguins do not publish books.  I wish they did, but they have trouble doing things with their wings, or flippers, either way, I’m not sure they can read our language.”

“I see. Do you think they can read other languages?”

” Maybe,” said Lucy. But I think one of the Penguin publishers just liked the sweet things and named the publishing house after them.  I mean, they are adorable.  Besides, they have wonderful posture and they’re always dressed for any occasion.”

Michael smiled.  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you my real name but humans are kind of funny about things like that.  They tend to worship anything they don’t understand, or anything they made up and don’t understand.”

“No problem.  Things like that don’t bother me.  You lied to protect yourself, and maybe me as well, but once you saw that things were okay, you told the truth.”

“That’s true.”

“If you lie about other things, I’ll never trust you again and I won’t ever want you in my life because I don’t hang out with liars, got it?”


“Good.  I don’t think lying makes for good relationships and if we’re going to be friends, well, then we have to be honest with each other.”

“I think you’re fabulous and I want to stay with you….”


“I just told you the truth,” said Michael.  “Was that wrong?”

“Uh, telling the truth may be a bit hard to explain,” said Lucy, biting her lip.

“I didn’t say I loved you, because I told you that angels aren’t like that, at least for the most part. And besides, it’s way to early to say something like that, right?”

“Okay then,” said Lucy, standing up.  “I’m going to talk to the waitress.  Don’t go anywhere, okay?”


“He’s kind of cute,” said the waitress, nodding toward Michael.

“I guess,” said Lucy, pulling out her wallet.

“And thanks for setting me straight.  As soon as you said what you said, I knew you were right. I was acting like a loser and I do deserve.”

“I’m happy for you,” laughed Lucy, handing her a few bills. “Can I buy an entire Death By Chocolate cake for a Christmas party?”

“Sure,” said the waitress, “I’ll write an order.  What’s the date?”

“Christmas Eve but you better make it two.”

“You got it,” said the waitress,

“Thanks,” smiled Lucy, walking toward the table.

“Now what?” asked Michael, standing up.

“Bookstore, grocery store, bread shop, bakery, then home to feed the cats and write.”

Michael grinned and rubbed his hands together, “That sounds great.”

“Why?” asked Lucy, dropping a tip on the table.

“I’ve never done any of those things before.”

“I’ll try to make each one as exciting as possible,” snickered Lucy.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, now come on.”

“What’s your book about?”

“It’s about the unfairness of life.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not exactly sure but I’m trying to work a vampire into the plot.”


Lucy shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I think vamps are kind of cool.  I’d like to be one for a few weeks, so I could kill all the rapists and batterers.  I’d start with priests because they lie and they’re into blood, rape and murder, then I’d move out from that point, into the general public.”

“Are you serious?”

“No.  It’s a book about…”


“I don’t know anything about flowers.”

“About the moon?”

“It’s about Paris.”


“You sound disappointed.”

“I like the vampire idea better,” said Michael.  “More action.”

“How about a vampire in Paris?”

“Works for me,” said Michael, happily.   “I’m sure there are priests in Paris.”




“This cake really is the best thing,” said Walker.

“What’s your real name?”


“You’re THE Michael?”


“I thought you’d be bigger.”

“I get that a lot.”

“Why didn’t you tell me your name right away?”

“I thought you might be intimidated.”

“Now you know better, right?”

“I do.”

“Should I call you Mike?”


“I didn’t think so.”

“What’s your real name,” asked Michael.



“Why would I lie about my name?”

Michael shrugged.  “I don’t know.”

“Still weird about the whole wing thing,” said Lucy. I mean,  I’ve seen pictures and stuff.”

“You mean the pictures you made up to go with the stories you made up?”

“We do that a lot.  We have vivid imaginations.”

“I know.  That’s why you can kill things in so many creative ways.”

“I bet you kill a lot more than we do.”

“No one kills more than you do.”

“Do you know Lilith?”

“DON’T SAY HER NAME,” shouted Michael, quickly looking back and forth.

“So, yes, you know her.  She’s a Goddess.”

“If you say so.”

“We probably made her up too, right?”

“You wish.”

“Why don’t you have wings?”

“We never had wings.  Nor did we have harps or haloes.  Never.”

“Aren’t haloes just part of our auras?”

“Yes, they are,” he said, smiling.

“I knew a Michael in high school and I didn’t like him.”

“I’m not him, so no problem.”

“Names are like that, you know.”

“I do know.  I don’t know any other Lucy’s, except for the one in the Snoopy cartoon.”

“You know Snoopy?” said Lucy, breathlessly.

“Everyone knows Snoopy.  Everyone knows the happy dance.”

“Can I kiss you, right now?”


Lucy stood and grabbed Michael’s face.  She smiled at him and kissed his lips, slowly and with great joy.  “Snoopy rocks,” she whispered.”

Michael stared at her.

“What?” asked Lucy, frowning.

“Why did you do that?”

“Because I felt like it.”

“Do you always do what you feel like doing?”

“Of course,” said Lucy. “Don’t you?”

“Do you want to do it again?”

“Why would I want to do it again?.  That was for Snoop.  Besides, you said angels don’t feel anything.”

“I did NOT say that,” said Michael firmly.  “I said we don’t love or…”

“Whatever,” said Lucy.  “Do you play the drums.”


“You DO?”

“I do.”

“Great, I have drums at my place, so you can play at the dinner.”

“Gabe plays a thing that’s a bit like your earth guitar.  I must warn you, however, we don’t make music, at least not the way you think of it, and it could possibly hurt you.”

“Maybe you could tone it down a bit and practice before the party.”

“I’ll see if the others are willing to do that,” said Michael. “What do you play?”

“I dance, sing and pretty much have fun.”

“Why do you have drums if you don’t play?”

“I like drums and someone left them at my house as payment for me painting their entire apartment  Can you teach me how to play?”

Michael smiled.  “I can try. But tell me, do penguins really publish books?”



“Us?  We’re the worst?”

“Surely you knew.”

“How would I know that?  I don’t know any other aliens, well aside from you.  Who could I compare us to?”

“You don’t need to compare yourselves to anyone, just look at yourselves.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let me put it this way,” said Walker. “There is an agreement, throughout the entire universe, to make absolutely sure that your species NEVER gets off the planet.”

“We’re that bad?”

“You are.”

“What about the lizards?”

“What lizards?”

“I thought there were lizards out there?”

“Out where?”

“In space.  They’re supposed to be mean.”

“THEY’RE supposed to be mean?  Surely you jest?”

“I jest not,” said Lucy, sipping her hot chocolate and biting into a tiny hand made marshmallow.

“Don’t you have a saying, something about a pot and kettle?”


“Never mind.  Just take my word for it…no other species is as violent, and as hateful, as yours.  Sure, you wouldn’t want to run into some of the other species, but for all around insanity, you guys win.”

“We don’t eat hearts.”

“Yes.  You do.  You torture and eat helpless beings, who have no chance of escape. A lot of angels won’t even come here and you breed like rabbits.  We’ve tried to wipe you out any number of times, but you keep coming back to ravage the earth, again and again.  At one point there were fewer than a couple hundred of you, but did you die off.  NOOOOOOOO, you just kept on living.”

“You must not be very good at your job, if you couldn’t kill a couple of hundred cavemen.  And you seem to have a lot of anger for an angel.”

“They weren’t cave men and how would you know how much anger I have?  I’m the first angel you’ve ever met.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“We want to kill you, but we want to keep the planet safe.  The plan is to let it regenerate, after you’re gone.”

“Why don’t you help us, instead of killing us?”


“I have no idea, isn’t that something you should be able to do?”

“No, you’re unreasonable and there are rules.”

“What kind of rules and who made the rules?”

“None of us are supposed to interfere with another species.”

“But you already have and you’re here now, playing with us.”

“I know.”

“That’s against the rules, right.”

“Yes, but like your government, we don’t care about the rules, or the laws, even if we made them ourselves.”

“Did we help make up the rules?”

“There was no need for rules before you came into existence so, NO.”

“Geeze, that was a million years ago.”


“Do you want more cake?”

“Yes, please.”







“Why are you having them over?” asked Walker.

“I thought we talked about that already,” said Lucy, smiling at the waiter’s ex girlfriend.

“No, we did not.  Not really.”

“Well, I thought it would be fun, different and interesting.”

“That’s what you thought?  Really?” asked Walker.

“You’re one of them, what’s your deal?”

“I AM one of them, that’s why I’m telling you this is a very BAD idea.”

“What do you think’s going to happen?  I mean it’s the holiday season, ho ho ho and all that.”

We are alien beings, Lucy.  Not like aliens from a different country, we’re aliens from a different part of the universe.  You get that, don’t you?  We aren’t LIKE you.  We AREN’T human and we don’t think the way humans do.”

Most of the customers and their angels had left the cafe.  Several of the waiters had left as well.  It was quiet and relaxing.  Lucy and Walker sat over steaming cups of hot chocolate.

“Have you ever eaten a human heart?”

“No,” said walker.

“Why not?”

“I don’t do things like that,” he said, looking away.

“But you can do magic, right?”

“Magic doesn’t exist.  Different beings can do different things.  You call it magic, but the things you think of as, magic, are normal in their own environment.  There are things you can do that seem like magic to other beings.”

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that you can love, that you pair bond, that you make art, that you live with other species, furry, finned and winged, and you love them and let them sleep on your beds.  That you never stop caring for your offspring….”

“I get it but really, none of that stuff is magic, Walker.”

“It is to other species.  Gabe can never love you, he just finds you interesting, like any other alien in the universe.  You’re a lab rat to him.  He wants to see what you’ll do next because you’re not exactly like all the other rats.”


“Yes, wow.”

“So, what do you guys eat?”

“Nothing you actually have but the fact is, angels will eat just about anything except animals that aren’t human.”

“I can work with that.  What about females?”

“What do you mean?”

“Aren’t there any girls?”

“Of course not.  We are each both genders.”

“Excuse me?”

“What part don’t you understand?”

“They all looked like males.”

“This is the way we look,” said Walker, showing her his hands.  “We are both, in one body.”

“Well, that explains the pink jeans and lime green vest,” sighed Lucy.

“What do you mean?”

“Not important, believe me,” said Lucy.  “So, parthenogenesis, got it.”

“Yes,” said Walker.  “Parthenogenesis, I think.”

“Tell me,” said Lucy.  “Are theres bad aliens?”

“Seriously?” asked Walker, surprised.

“Yes, seriously.”

“Lucy, YOU are the bad aliens.”






“Uh, Lucy,” said Walker, in a very hushed tone.  “The waiter’s second girlfriend works here and she’s coming to our table.

“Why are you speaking in hushed tones?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hey,” said the waitress.  “I overheard what you said to this guy,” she said, nodding at Walker.  “So, you think I’m a loser?”

“Pretty much,” said Lucy, wiping her mouth with her napkin.  “Truthfully, I don’t understand it. You’re a beautiful woman who deserves to be treated as if you’re the only one who mattered to someone.  Why tie yourself to a guy who can’t make us his mind?  But it’s your life, your choice.  Lots of people settle for less.”

The waitress stared at Lucy, then turned, walked up to the waiter and said, “Get you’re stuff out of my apartment by tonight.  We’re finished.”  She looked at Lucy and waved, before disappearing into the kitchen.

“I like her said Lucy.  She’s smart and good looking.  She can have a man of her own.  One who loves and appreciates her.  She deserves that.  All women do.”

There was dead silence and then the angels started cheering again.

Gabe walked over to Walker and said, “If you ever want to get rid of this one, I’ll take her.”

“Thanks,” said Walker, “but I’m good.”

“Just saying,” he chuckled, winking at Lucy.  “She’s a lot of fun.”

“So,” said Lucy. “Aside from human hearts, what do angels eat?”




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