A Martinez - Divine Misfortune

A squirrel scampered before him. The odd animal was dark red with black spots. It had big blue eyes. Unusually large, it seemed. But Phil didn’t know enough about squirrels to know for sure.

It batted its eyes and cocked its head at a lovable angle.

“Hi, little fella. Aren’t you friendly?”

The squirrel stood, leaning against his leg. Its ears tilted forward. He reached down to scratch its head. The squirrel nipped at his finger, drawing blood. Phil jumped back, and the tiny spotted predator crouched. Its ears flattened. Its tail bristled. It snarled, showing razor-sharp yellow teeth. Its body tightened in preparation to spring.

Lucky stepped out of the pizzeria. The squirrel narrowed its eyes and hissed like a snake. Phil may not have known much about squirrels, but that had to be unusual. The god transformed into a two-hundred-pound timber wolf, retaining his raccoon head and tail, although his snout was elongated and canine. The squirrel turned and ran. Lucky gave chase.

“It’s okay!” shouted Phil. “It was just a little bite!”

The squirrel darted under a car in the parking lot, and Lucky scrambled after it. Phil jogged down the row of cars, trying to keep pace with the pursuit. The lot wasn’t very full. There was nowhere for the squirrel to hide. It ducked and weaved, avoiding Lucky’s snapping jaws. The squirrel veered off and headed back toward Phil.

“Oh, crap.”

The squirrel charged. Its narrow eyes focused on either his throat or his crotch. He couldn’t tell for sure, but either possibility seemed unpleasant. The rabid rodent leaped.

It was the throat. Phil was simultaneously relieved and terrified.

Lucky grabbed the squirrel by the tail and whipped it away. The rodent landed on its feet and whirled to continue the attack. Lucky transformed into a raccoon-headed bear. He stepped between the squirrel and Phil.

The rabid creature backed away.

Lucky clapped his paws, and a crate fell out of the sky. It missed the squirrel by several yards, striking a car and crushing its roof. The crate burst apart, sending shards of wood and jelly beans flying like shrapnel. Phil was fortunate enough not to have anything hard hit him, but he was pelted with candy.

Lucky clapped again. A recliner plummeted like a bomb. His aim was better but still off by a few feet.

“Damn it.”

The squirrel bolted in the opposite direction. With each clap of his paws, Lucky dropped miscellaneous bombs of divine wrath. He smashed a sportscar with a refrigerator and pulverized a pickup engine with a bathtub. An anvil missed both the cars and the squirrel, but it did leave a big dent in the pavement.

“Aw, screw it.” Lucky reverted to his casual raccoon shape. He snapped his fingers, and a midsize boat found its target. The boat wasn’t quite a yacht, but it was large enough to pulverize the animal and several automobiles.

The god scratched his head. “I guess it’s true what they say. If you don’t keep up the smiting practice, you get rusty.”

Phil gawked at the debris littering the parking lot.

Lucky scooped up a handful of jelly beans and popped a couple in his mouth. “Want one?”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you sure? They’re pretty good if you pick out the gravel.

He noticed Phil’s stunned expression.

“You okay, buddy? That squirrel didn’t hurt you, did it?”

Phil held up his wounded finger.

“We better get a Band-Aid on that. Maybe some antiseptic. Just because you’re hanging out with a god of good fortune, that doesn’t mean we can’t use a little common sense, right?”

Phil nodded. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” said Lucky. “Feral squirrel. See them all the time in the city.” He rocked back and forth on his toes and heels. “Hey, whatever it was, it’s dead now, right? It’ll never nip another finger again, and that’s a promise. I smote it good. Just consider it one of the many fine services I offer my followers. Now aren’t you glad I’m around?”

Onlookers were gathering to view the damage.

“This scene is getting crowded. Do you want to get out of here?”

“But what about all the cars you destroyed?”

“Not our problem.” Lucky enveloped them in the globe of light. “According to the Divine Intervention Concordant of 1845, a god or goddess is not responsible for any incidental damages resulting from the execution of his or her wrathful obligations. The squirrel bit you. I exacted my rightful divine retribution. It’s as simple as that. Now let’s bolt before things get complicated.”

They lifted into the air. Phil surveyed the shattered remains of the boat.

“Why did it attack me?” he wondered aloud.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, kid. As long as I’m around, everything will be turning up roses from now on.”

“But-”

“Do you like burritos, Phil?” asked Lucky.

Phil lost his train of thought. “What?”

“Burritos? Not a big fan, myself, to be honest, but sometimes, I still get a hankering. I think tonight is a burrito night. What do you think?”

Lucky smiled, and a warm, comforting feeling passed over Phil.

“Uh, yeah, burritos sound good.”

Lucky snapped his fingers. “Excellente.”

“Excellente,” agreed Phil in a bit of a fog.

By noon, Teri had ripped her skirt, gotten several runs in her stockings, and broken a heel, and there was a wrinkle in her collar that refused to go away. Her computer had eaten her presentation, and she’d lost the index card with her backup notes and the backup backup notes. And she was fairly certain she was coming down with a cold, too.

When lunch rolled around, she was all too eager to get out of the office. She usually ate at the deli tucked in the building’s ground floor. Teri found her regular table and sat quietly. She wasn’t moving unless she absolutely had to.

A tall brunette sashayed her way to the table and had a seat. “Geez, hon, looks like you’ve had better days.”

“You have no idea.”

“You stay here,” said Janet. “I’ll go and order for the both of us.”

“Thanks.”

When Janet returned with her tray, Teri’s iced tea tipped. The lid popped off, and tea spilled across the table. She pushed away from the table to avoid getting splashed. Her chair tilted, and only Janet’s quick hand on Teri’s sleeve stopped her from falling.

Janet offered to buy Teri another drink, but Teri turned her down. Instead, she took a bite of her soggy sandwich, chewing very slowly to avoid biting her tongue.

Janet’s sandwich had somehow escaped the flood. “I don’t know, hon. Maybe Phil’s right. Maybe you should get a god.”

“We have one.”

“Oh, really?” Janet raised an eyebrow. “Is he hot? Or is he even a he? Did you go the goddess route?”

“No, he’s a he.”

“Cool. So is he hot?”

“He’s a raccoon.”

“Like with the striped tail and the cute little paws?”

Teri nodded.

“Very retro.”

“Well, he does seem to like Hawaiian shirts,” replied Teri. “The kind that were in fashion… actually I don’t think they were ever in fashion.”

“Kitschy. And a bit surprising. I always pictured you as more of a traditional gal. Well, actually, I thought you’d talk yourself out of it at the last minute.”

“I wish I had.”

“Not going so well, is it? What’s his gig?”

“His what?”

“His schtick. His game,” said Janet. “His specialty?”

“Good fortune.” Teri’s sandwich dripped cold tea and mayo on her blouse. It was already ruined, so she didn’t think much of it.

“Looks like he’s broken.”

Teri shrugged. “I think it’s my fault. He wanted to move in, and I wasn’t crazy about the idea. I think he picked up on that.”