Cupid Was A Myth Until I Met Him

“This is my house and I want to know what you’re doing here and how you got in. Who the hell are you?”

“Damn it, this is embarrassing. I’m supposed to sneak up and get you without you knowing. I HATE getting old. I’m so clumsy I make noise.”

“But, who are you?”

“Cupid.”

“What? Cupid? You’re full of crap! Cupid is a little cherub, a fantasy that goes back a few thousand years, about 700 BC if my memory serves me.”

“Actually I’m originally Greek, Eros was my name, then the romans had to have their own so I became Amor and in what you call the baroque period all those fat little baby’s, the cherub, were seen as their catholic gods messengers and I became one. I’ve never been a fat little baby with a stupid little bow shooting people in the heart.”

“Horse Hockey!”

“What? Hockey?”

“Not the game, it’s a euphemism for the brown stuff, horse apples is another. It’s means your...”

“I get it. I’m here because Darla needs me to be. I don’t do it often any more, crap, I’m mostly crippled, but she doesn’t think you’re interested.”

“Darla? Of course I’m interested. She’s lovely and very sexy.”

“Then why don’t you ask her out? She’s done everything except throw herself at you naked.”

“I have a problem.”

“What problem? You’re 50, she’s 39, both single, so what’s the big deal?”

“You don’t look or sound like Cupid. Where’s your bow and arrows? Cupid always has them. And your voice sounds like you’re a hundred.”

“No. The bow’s an artifact generated by the early Greeks. They thought it necessary, but I’m one of the primordial gods and don’t need it. I point my finger and wish them good fortune. What’s your problem?”

“I can’t ask a woman for a date. A rejection I got at 12 and I’ve never gotten over it.”

“Someone told you no and it’s still there 38 years later? Insane. People can be so dumb at times.”

“Wait a minute, you can’t call me...”

“Yes, I can. After 38 years it’s just dumb, or you just never tried.”

”I have tried, but it gets stuck in my throat. I can’t ask. And she didn’t tell me no.”

“Ohh, what could a child say that stuck that long?”

She wasn’t a child.”

“More interesting, who then?”

“My friend Walters mom. She was very sexy at our neighborhood Christmas party.”

“What did she say?”

“I asked her to dance and she said she’d promised the next to someone else but the one after was mine. That crushed me.”

“So 38 wasted years over a misunderstanding. What a waste. See my pointy finger? I wish you good fortune. Goodbye.”

“Wait? Don’t go... now what, it’s 1am.” . . . I wonder if Darla’s still up? . . . said she reads late . . .

“Hello?”

“Hi, sorry about calling so late, but I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch tomorrow?”

“I’d love that.”

. . . thanks . . . Who would have guessed . . . Cupid . . .