Author's Note: This story is dedicated to Kimmi Gray. May Cupid improve his aim. Also, a special thanks to Patricia Louise for her rub-off of Greek and Roman mythology.

Playing Cupid

Ironically enough, I was thinking of Valentine's Day the very moment I stepped into the kitchen. Actually, I was thinking about how much the mention of heart-shaped candies, expensive roses, and over-sized teddy bears disgusted me more than the mental image of maggots squirming around in my box of Chinese food--not that I had a problem with larva.

Now, most people wouldn't understand the irony behind this; however, those ignorant folks have never found a god rudely guzzling milk from their mother's refrigerator. I have. Granted, I didn't know he was a god at the time.

Of course, that's the point, isn't it?

If I'd known, I probably would have fainted or checked myself into the loony bin. I, on the other hand, thought that he was a thief. Then, like any good, red-blooded American, I reached for the only weapon in sight.

No, it wasn't the frying pan.

Strangely enough, it was a tightly strung bow, barely the length of my forearm and already notched with a red, gold-tipped arrow. And it was conveniently located on the breakfast table. I grabbed it quickly, before a word could be exchanged to change my mind, and held it at chest height.

Step two was supposed to be "shout threatening warning at odd man." I slipped my fingers over the pink feathers, pulled back, and suddenly it skipped to "shoot stranger through chest." Funny, murder wasn't on my to-do list for the day.