Author: Brittany Woods PM
Cupid's on the job hunt. You damn humans never listen to him anyway... Entry for Meg Cabot's 2011 Valentine's Day fiction contest.Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Romance - Words: 1,143 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 02-14-13 - Status: Complete - id: 3101025
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I've seriously been considering a job change lately. Unfortunately, few job markets are on the hunt for cherubic man-babies with a talent for archery. Trust me. I've asked. Basically anything would be an upgrade from my current career. Telemarketing. Garbage pick-up. Screw it; I'd be a professional ass-wiper at this point. Yes, ass wiping would be a kind of Nirvana for me.
For thousands of years now I've been a slave to the nearly impossible task of finding humans love. Let me tell you something: nothing pleases you people. I used to have the highest success rate in the universe and now I'm lucky to hit one out of the park 30% of the time.
Not to mention, I'm terribly misrepresented by Hallmark.
As long as I'm flying around on February 14th, looking adorable, and shooting people with heart-shaped arrows, everyone's happy. Nobody cares that I'm actually the equivalent of a forty-year-old man by your standards (an impossibly short one, but still). No one knows that I've won the Hold 'Em tournament on Olympus for the past two hundred years. To you, I'm a cute little baby who sleeps on a cloud and constantly giggles. This is why I always aim for the ocular cavity.
Everyone on Olympus blames me for your failures. I set you up by the thousands on a yearly basis, but evolution has apparently created some supernatural immunity to my magic arrows. Nothing sticks. Last year I petitioned Zeus for a department transfer, but he denied me. My only chance now of getting out of this, is placing my bets on sure things.
Unfortunately, my clientele really can't be depended on. Like this one kid Casey. General disdain for Valentine's Day usually bodes well for me – clients are less likely to make their own plans – and this kid had it in abundance. His good friend Elise totally went for the whole awkwardly cute thing and he'd had some less than PC fantasies about her. You teenagers really disgust me sometimes.
Anyway, a couple hundred years ago Casey and Elise would have been a done deal. One quick shot with an arrow and a chaperoned walk through the park and Wam! Bam!… life-long marriage. Technology, however, brought text-messaging, blogging, and that bird one – tweetMYface or whatever – into the mix. It's too much for one cherub to keep up with! How was I supposed to figure out that despite his obvious chemistry with Elise, Casey was planning on throwing himself at a vapidly horrendous future trophy wife? I just never saw the signs! It makes no sense! Their story was out of my hands from the start. For example, Exhibit A:
Casey wasn't sure what had come over him this year. Why was he even considering this? Oh. That's right. This was his last chance with Jenna Hitchcock. He'd lusted after Jenna for three years and this year – his senior year – he was going to get her.
But Jenna was a special kind of girl. A guy couldn't just walk up to her after a total of zero conversations and ask her to a movie. That was the only justification Casey could find for the anonymous valentine he'd shoved in his backpack this morning. Girls like Jenna totally went for the secret admirer crap. It was basically a done deal!
Now he just needed to find a patsy. His friend Elise! She would be perfect and she was standing ten feet away from him right now.
"Elise!" he exclaimed. "I need a favor."
"Hey, Casey," she smiled at him and Casey took a moment to appreciate how pretty she looked with her hair down. "How are you?"
"I'd be better if you'd help me with my secret mission," he replied.
"Let me guess," she shut her locker. "The Jenna thing?" Casey nodded. "Allow me to reiterate: You have never spoken to Jenna. I have. You won't like her, Case."
"What are you talking about? Look at her," Casey pointed to the opposite set of lockers where Jenna was laughing with her friends. "She's so beautiful! We're perfect for each other!"
They were, in fact, not even close to being good for each other. I can't intervene in my role, though. When a choice is made, I just have to watch people crash and burn.
Elise honored her promise and delivered Casey's note – though she spent the next two months seriously confused about why it bothered her so much to do so. Jenna didn't even read it, but Casey was not immediately deterred. Teenage boys are idiots. Elise isn't the type of girl who would accept a rebound Valentine's date, so I waited patiently until the next year – which happened to come about exactly four days ago. Which brings me – with a touch of smug contentment – to Exhibit B:
Elise's phone rang as she made her way cross campus back to her dorm. She smiled when she saw her friend Casey's name on the caller ID. They'd barely seen each other since Graduation seven months ago.
"Hey Case!" she said. "Happy Valentine's Day!"
"You know I hate V-Day," he replied. "You have any plans for this evening? I know how mushy all of this stuff makes you."
"I have a date with Mr. Rochester," she replied. Then, because Casey would probably think that was a professor, she added, "From Jane Eyre. Huge English paper due on Monday."
"Well, that's unfortunate," Casey said. He sounded amused for some reason. "Having trouble finding your keys?"
"Of course! I always do," she replied, rounding the corner to her dorm while digging in her bag for her keys. Wait. How did he - "How did you know that, Case?"
"I've always thought you looked pretty with your hair down," he replied, chuckling to himself.
Butterflies exploded in Elise's stomach as her eyes left the ground and found Casey on the porch of her dorm with a bouquet of daffodils in his arms. Her favorite.
You can't see this, but I am pointing obnoxiously at this scene right now. Take notes, kids!
"Casey!" she exclaimed, dropping her bag and running up the stairs to him. He picked her up, spinning her around as she laughed. "I missed you!"
He placed her down and clasped her hand in his own.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Elise."
And when he kissed her a moment later, the universe aligned and a little, balding, cherubic man-baby went all in on a sure thing.
A/N: So I decided to dig this out of my old files. This is the story I entered into Meg's contest in 2011 (I think it was 2011. I'm terrible with dates). It was super fun to write because I love writing sarcasm. Plus, it's hilarious to think of Cupid hating his job. Anyway, more TYM soon :)