The way I see it, there’s two kinds of people in this world. There’s the people who do things for themselves and don’t give a damn what others say. Then there are the people who do what others want them to do, over and over till they can’t take it anymore. Their hatred eats them from the inside out till they turn into hideous creatures. Not unlike demons I suppose. But there isn’t a Heaven or a Hell in this case. Oh no, Heaven’s far to busy, and Hell, I don’t think Hell really gives a damn.

You know, its Hell. I’m sure the Prince of Darkness, Ol’ Nick, is far to busy to actually take time out of his schedule to play mortal babysitter. No, I’m not making this up. He told me that once, the baby sitter part. Though, in his words, I believe he said something like:

“Me, take care of you?! Malahidael my dear boy, I don’t have the time. Id say ask your cousins, but after what you did up there, I’m not to sure they’d want to talk to you. Really, just go on. Do as your Master told you to do. I’m sure he’ll pardon you in time. And for now, try not to kill too many people. Hell’s full, purgatory is rebelling and I think Limbo crashed. We still haven’t found the pieces yet.”

God, I hate it when he uses my given name. I told him, call me Dael, DAEL! But do they listen? No. I would pick something entirely different, but I’m not allowed. Rules. Regulations. Even after what has happened, I still have to follow those damn regulations!

And yes, I used your name in vain God. What are you going to do about it?

As I was saying.

The hate in people tends to build up. The remorse, the suicidal tendencies and depression. All that. It gets to the point that all it takes is one last ‘hey idiot!’ and they snap. I do mean this literally. They lose their hold on what little tiny scrap of humanity they have left because of you. Because of people constantly picking on them. Beating on them. Calling them names, and worse. It gets a lot worse. Trust me.

They turn into what I call Uglies. There is no better term; they are just that fucking ugly. With humanity gone, what’s left? Nothing, nothing but a giant, puss filled lump of everything wrong with humans. Dark, twisting masses of…things. There is no actual shape to it. Not that I can tell. Non-Euclidean geometry, I think it’s called? I don’t know. I was never alive when math and geometry were big things. Back then, what mattered was living. Personal hygiene wasn’t a big thing either. That’s one good thing about this day and age. I get to have a shower more then once a year.

These Uglies go on mass murder rampages. And since Hell and Heaven aren’t taking souls anymore, and I’m sure the ground is full as well, it’s my job to take care of them. I run after these Uglies and kill them, kindly mind, before they can genocide the population. As for what happens to their souls?

Jeez. Let’s just say when there is no up or down, they stay where they are. Do you know how much of a pain it is, to be brushing your teeth, or walking around naked and this soul brushes past you? And then five more join it?

I’d ask God why they seem so attracted to me. Perhaps it’s my good looks, or I just vibrate angelic good fuzzie wuzzies, but God is a wee bit miffed with me. Actually, his exact words?

“Malahidael! You crazy, two timing fucking son of a bitch!” Did I mention God has a really bad swearing problem? He picked it up recently, what with him not actually being the true God. Oh, he died ages ago. Something about a holy Spear through his chest. Monarchs have to be replaced you know. “You’re banished to Earth! If you ever step foot back into Heaven, I will rip your ugly wings from your equally ugly back! Feather by feather. Do as you’re told, and perhaps after a few millennia, I might let you back in. Don’t look at me like that Malahidael. This is your fault you know. You are the one who brought this on yourself.”

Yea, I was the one that brought this on my self. Apparently rebelling just isn’t something angels do anymore. If I didn’t love him, I think I would hate him. But we angels are born with the love for God within us. And even when he’s yelling like that, all we can do is smile, nod, and take it like a dog.

So my job now, since I’m not the angel of general protection? Bag me some Uglies and keep the dead souls here, stuck on Earth with me.

Fuck I hate my job.