Today is my birthday, although this story has nothing to do with that.
Blind Angel Luck
The angel in my hand was blind, projecting an air of bland, unfocused benevolence out into the world. That was how I had envisioned it when I bought it: a chunk of divine plutonium, radiating good luck and positive vibes to all those nearby. It hadn’t really worked out that way.
“Hey, is this for sale?” my friend Phil asked, picking it up. People were circulating through my apartment, looking over the price-tagged items. I told people I needed to de-clutter. No one was fooled; I could barely buy food.
“Just take it,” I said, “if you dare. I bought it for good luck, after all.”
“Ah.” He put it in his pocket, then slipped $20 into my hand. “I’ll take my chances,” he said with a wink.
Two hours later, the sale was over and I was just sitting down in my much-emptier living room when someone pounded on the door. It was Phil.
“It worked! It worked!”
“What worked?”
“The angel. I went to the corner shop to buy a Coke and I was coming back when I got mugged.”
“How is that good?”
“I threw the angel at him when he turned around. It knocked him out cold. The police are giving me a reward. I’ll split it with you.”
I still don’t believe in good luck charms. But I might start carrying a stone angel around with me anyway.
