A small white Chihuahua named Chicka is standing in one spot on the floor of a dimly lit room. She’s barking, both excited and confused, spinning around on the spot as if it’s missed something and staring up at her owner, Cupid. Cupid’s feet dangle just above the mutts head, and he hangs from a poorly crafted noose, not moving. Chicka barks.
“Bark bark, I want food!” Cupid says.
He grabs at the noose with both hands and struggles to pull himself free. Kicking his legs about as fast as the dog spinning around, sending tiny yelps in all directions of the room, his face is bright red and the rope finally gives way just as the ceiling collapses and he hits the ground landing on the dog. Plonk! Chicka yelps.
Romance is dead. Tinder, online dating, prostitutes, mail order brides, date rape drugs, soap operas on television and not to mention the insane amount of porn now accessible to practically everyone with a Smartphone (Not suitable for kids need not apply here). This has left Cupid feeling hopeless and depressed. Without a purpose or motivation in life, what is there? Match making is Cupids sole purpose in life, it’s all he’s good at. It’s all he knows. Okay sure, all he has to do is shoot an arrow through a guy or gal, not much to it really. But when it came to two strangers meeting at completely random intervals and falling in love at first sight, Cupid was your guy.
“Ow! Typical.” Cupid moans.
He’s arching his back and rolls off Chicka, who is now a pancake on the floor. Cupid stands and cracks his back, then using his arms as spatula’s to pick up Chicka, he then places his mouth to the dog’s mouth and blows hard. Chicka fills up with air turning back to his normal shape and waddles off under Cupids desk, which seemed like a much safer place to be considering recent events. Chicka peers back at Cupid.
“I’m sorry buddy,” Cupid says.
He flings the broken rope into the bin and sighs.
“Guess Cupid really can’t die huh?” He stands in the spot he fell, looking up to where his roof used to be.
“The landlord is going to be pissed.” He says staring at the birds flying in the sky above.
“I wish I could just die”.
The Chihuahua named Chicka, perched under the desk using it as shelter against the spit flying out from Cupids mouth. Cupid was in one of his moods again. For a so called “lover” Cupid sure did seem to curse a lot at times. Chicka heard the alarm go off. It was Cupids clock, but Chuck had long since set the alarm to go off every day at the same time. The mailman would be here any second now. Having no time to cower in fear from Cupids tantrum of spit, Chicka made for the bed, barley dodging a shower of mouth-spit disguised in “fucks” and “mothers” and “godammits”. Chicka reached the bed and leapt for the window, hoping it was actually open this time around.
In a fit of rage, Cupid cursed every bad word he knew of while flailing his arms around and making threatening gestures’ towards his computer, which although not at fault this time, has been the cause of numerous of Cupids tantrums in recent days. The computer did not look scared at all, so Cupid thought of giving it a swift kick to remind the PC who was in charge. Just as he had his leg wound up as far back as he could get it, Chicka came flying out in a blur of white fluff. As Cupid lost his balance, he could see Chicka on the bed jumping for the window. The window was closed. It had been fixed just last night. This happened every day around the same time and Cupid was tired of getting the same window fixed when it was clearly the Chihuahua that was broken. On his fall down to the floor, Cupid snatched his arrow. He heard the smash and spotted Chicka flying out of the once again broken window in a wave of glass. He aimed the arrow right at Chickas’ heinie and shot. Less than a second later he heard a yelp, only louder than when he’d fallen on Chicka. Whether this was due to the impact of Chickas landing, the glass or the arrow hitting its target, Cupid did not know.
Chicka landed in a sea of glass and let out a yelp. The sea of glass was far to piled to be from only one window. After the first thirty times Cupid had simply given up cleaning the broken shards from outside, so Chicka always had something to break her fall. It’s a two story house, but the fall into the glass was only a couple meters down. Chicka was great at swimming and had over time learned to glide through the glass sea with elegance and stride. She’d never been cut by the glass before, but something had definitely pierced its tiny heinie, hence the yelp Chick let out, that was so high pitched even more of the glass shattered.
Cupid was quite sure of where his arrow had landed. After all he was master of aiming the arrow. It’s kind of his thing. He could hear the mailman screaming.
“Get the fuck back”.
Along with fixing the window, prying Chick off the mailman’s’ leg was among Cupids daily activities. Chicka was only tiny but had the jaws of an alligator. The mailman has had to start using shin guards for protection. Still somehow, when Cupid tore Chicka from the mailman’s’ leg, it brought a mouthful of hard plastic bits with it. Cupid really didn’t know what Chickas problem with the mailman was?
Chicka was ashore the sea of glass now. She was yapping like a lunatic, spinning around so fast she was a white puff of cloud imitating a tornado. Chicka was always doing this. Chasing her own tail like a maniac. But this time there really was something following her. And this time she finally caught the culprit in her teeth. She yanked the foreign offender out of her heinie, and for the third time that day, gave out a high pitched yelp. Chicka, eyes popped out, shaking and ready to kill, stood glaring at what looked like a broken stick. She didn’t have time to contemplate what any of this meant. The mailman was here. And although Chicka really had no idea what the mailman’s problem was, she knew the problem had to be dealt with.
Cupid was headed towards the front door, cursing his idiot dog, when he froze in place.
“This is just what I need right now”. Says Cupid.
He broke a sweat. Leaning against the door frame was the cockroach. The cockroach was blocking his exit and trying to look menacing, though it could barely keep its balance. The cockroach had obviously gotten into his liquor cabinet again. This wasn’t just a cockroach with an alcohol habit. This was a cockroach with an alcohol habit and serious anger issues. Cupid could really not be fucked with this right now.
“I really cannot be fucked with this right now”. Said Cupid.
The mailman screamed again. This time more urgent and terrified than he’d ever been. Cupid looked out of the window and could see the mailman jumping around swatting at his leg. Chicka had once again attached herself to the mailman’s leg. But this time, instead of her teeth been clamped down on the mailman, Chicka had her legs wrapped round his.
“Is she...” Cupid trailed off.
He saw a look of ecstasy and adoration. Dare Cupid say it...love. The dog humping the mailman’s leg with glee, half of Cupids arrow, still sticking out of her heinie. Cupid looked at the alcoholic cockroach, which was now passed out against the door frame. He smiled.
“I’m glad I can’t die”. Said Cupid.