(Note: I wrote this in one sitting. Under 500 words. Just a bit of fun…)

 

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Craig the Protector

The apocalypse could not have come at a better time in my life. I had been half-assedly looking for work for weeks, trying to get my wife off my back. All I really wanted to do was sit on the bench outside of Harry’s and watch yoga pants go in and out of the Buddha Monkey across the street. So, when flames arose from out of the sea floor, and the hounds of hell started barking, and biting everyone in sight, I was as shocked as anyone to have been the guy asked by the angels to be The Great Protector of the Mortal Realm.

No longer would I get an earful of, “I can’t tell you what job to get, you’re 45 years old, Craig. You should already know what you like and don’t like doing.” Now, I’m a demigod on the side of all that is righteous, good, and pure, called upon to thwart the unholy demons of hell and to send them back from whence they came. Sure, the great angel council could have found a better candidate, something my wife pointed out more than once, but I was like, “Hey babe, this is a big opportunity for me, and for once I finally love what I do.”

I don’t know why I was chosen. I guess in all of their infinite immortal wisdom, the angels looked into my psyche or my heart and saw great courage etc, but it turned out, I’m “the one about whom it had been written.” So, it came as a pretty big surprise to my wife, and all of the guys at Harry’s, especially Harry, who had been serving me double rum-gunners for over two decades, when the final battle to decide the fate of humanity was waged, that it was me, Craig Williams from Swarthmore, who the angels armed with The Great Sword of Love and Truth.

My wife was super worried, she was like, “Craig honey, you’re doing so well. I‘m very proud of you, but don’t you think maybe there’s someone else that supposed to fight the Devil tomorrow?” And I was like, “Babe, that hurts. You know it has been written. You’re just scared. Don’t be. I got this.” But, truly I was a bit worried. Apparently Satan fights dirty, and I could have ended up rotting in a quote unquote eternal state of full body torture more terrible than being burnt alive.

Right before the final showdown, I spoke with this spirit animal thingie called Zolon, who looked like a brontosaurus made out of clouds. Dude said, “Craig, the entire world is counting on you. All of your fucking up has lead to this one last opportunity to get it right. Every second of your life, you have been waiting for precisely this moment to step up.”

So I did.

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Written by jasonscohen

Prior to writing this, Jason dreamed of becoming a self-actualized hipster. But, then he cut off his man-bun, and started blogging on his 40th birthday to make sense of the impending inauguration of Trump. He also paints and writes fiction. You can see his artwork and read his fiction blog at jasoncohenart.com.

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