Read by Dave Thompson
Originally published in Unidentified Funny Objects 3, edited by Alex Shvartsman.
When I came out of the coffee shop with my latte and my fresh walnut
brownie, the Archangel Michael was beating the ever-loving shit out of
Satan down on the corner. I could see the impact crater, right in the
middle of the intersection, and one of the poles holding up the
traffic lights was cut right in two so the wires had all fallen in the
street and also it was on fire on account of the flaming sword, so it
was a real mess. All higgledy-piggledy. Michael was holding Satan up
by the neck with one hand and just slapping him across the face with
the other. Which also by the way was still holding the sword, so it
wasn’t so much like slapping as it was punching with brass knuckles.
Also it was still on fire.
People were honking, but only the ones far enough back that they
couldn’t see what was going on. Everyone else was kind of looking the
other way. Fiddling with their cell phones. Avoiding eye contact.
You know, like you do around angels.
I figured it was time.
“Hey,” I said. Michael turned. I lifted the hand with the coffee in
it and pointed at Satan, who was pretty beat up by then. Missing some
teeth and all bruises and stuff. “Not cool,” I told Michael.
The angel looked down at me with his bronze wings all clanging in the
wind. Then he snorted and tossed Satan to the ground and just took
off. I stumbled a little and nearly spilled my coffee. Angels got
By then Satan was staggering upright. “You okay, dude?” I asked him.
“Could’ve taken him,” Satan said. He spat out a tooth and flared his
nostrils. “Didn’t need your help.”
Rated R. Contains F-bombs. And Satan.