A Quiver Half Full
A Short Father Evans Story by Abram Dress
“There’s supposed to be a demon.” Father Evans furrowed his brow. “You don’t look like one.”
“Harumph!” The tiny almost-naked man hovered near the McMansion living room’s ceiling, out of Evans’ reach. From his quiver full of arrows and lollipops he plucked ammunition. His muscular well-marbled arms aimed the gilded arrow at the priest’s black-frocked heart. “Ain’t no demon. C’mon, y’all priests should recognize an angel.”
“The family complained of odd movements in the shadows, buzzing noises, and…” Evans paused, tapped his worn copy of Exorcism for Beginners on his knuckles. “And lollipops in the kids’ bedrooms.”
“Why ya botherin’ me at work?” Cupid chewed a half-smoked joint. “Ya ain’t see me zipping ‘round the rafters of y’all’s church during communion, do ya?”
“Why’re you even here? Kids way too young, adults happily married. You need to leave.”
Cupid puffed through his mustache. “Or?”
Father Evans waved the book threateningly.
“Whatever, I’m outta here.” And with a poof of pheromone-smelling smoke, he was. The arrow, no longer attached to its owner’s weapon, plummeted. Evans stepped aside, but not before the arrowhead nicked him on the finger.
Father Evans messaged the Church that he’d driven off the intruder, but didn’t give more detail. Something about Cupid’s roughly charming demeanor interested him, and he jumped at the opportunity to answer the next Vatican exorcism call featuring “...the darndest thing. Lollipops.”
For days that crept into weeks, Father Evans scoured the country with determination, following a trail growing cold with every day that passed, his faith sustaining him through the long hours and longer miles. He navigated the highways like the Savior in the wilderness, veering between vast stretches of cornfields and the glowing neon of cities, seeking his sweet-toothed quarry. He heard rumors and followed the oddest leads, chasing down the whispers of candy found in unexpected places and sudden romantic upheavals.
Small towns buzzed with talk of a strange and mostly naked archer appearing at state fairs and schoolyards, a flurry of arrows and sweet treats scattered in his wake.
One cross-country trip bled into another until Evans forgot where he began.
Finally his quest brought him to a chaotic amusement park, bright with sin and paranormal activity.
The county fairgrounds bustled with gluttony, greed, and, yes, lust. Particularly near the Love Canal, where the buzzing of dozens of tiny arrows zinging to their targets overwhelmed the ambient cacophony.
Father Evans wondered that nobody else seemed to notice the little angel as he zipped in and out of crowds, firing arrows, pushing tentative faces together, checking teeth, and sneaking lollipops into the pockets of meandering children. He stared hard at Cupid while he spoke. He had trouble focusing, as though the little guy wasn’t supposed to be seen by normal people.
“Been here all week?”
Cupid loosed another arrow then scowled at Evans. “I need a dadgum restraining order now?” He buzzed down to waist level, peeked in the mouth of a little boy who was gawking at the Zipper ride, and slid a lollipop into the kid’s back pocket. “Don’t ya go threatening me again. I asked the big bosses, they said y’all cain’t exorcise me.”
“I didn’t even bring the book.” Evans revealed his hands: just a corn dog and a soda. “What’s your deal, though?”
“Ya dumb or somethin’? I shoot peeps in the heart to help ‘em fall in love.” He puffed a lungful of dank. “Been doing it forever without no nosey priests getting all up in my diaper. Until now.”
“Fine, but the candy? What’s with that?” Evans smiled as he spoke. There was something about this grizzled cherubic beauty that tickled his lonely heart.
Cupid’s droning wings slowed and he descended until his diaper bounced on the filthy pavement. He dropped his bow and cradled his face in his tiny hands. Through sobs, “Ya can’t know what it’s like, helping others with all’they’all’s relationships but ain’t never findin’ love for myself.”
Evans frowned and looked down at his attire. His black suit and Roman collar clearly proclaimed his role as a chaste mentor and advisor. He crouched next to Cupid and rested a hand on his fuzzy back between idling wings. “I know how you feel.”
“Ain’t nobody knows how I feel!” Cupid yipped. He grabbed his armaments and zoomed off into the crowd.
The sun had set and Father Evans had gorged himself on the last of many carnival corn dogs as he sat in his aged Civic and stared at the darkness, lost and lonely. He jumped when the police scanner on the passenger seat sprang to life.
“459!” it blared. A home invasion? “459, armed intruder… with a bow at–”
Evans tapped the address into his phone and a soothing voice encouraged him to “Merge onto Aspen Street going south.”
Minutes later he pulled up in front of an old colonial illuminated in flashing blue and red. He rushed past a family cowering in the yard, elbowing through a couple uniforms with the flash of a Vatican ID and a curt “I know him,” and “I can help.”
Inside he followed the shouts of “don’t move!” and “drop it!” into a blue-painted bedroom. Plush toys littered the floor, surrounding a land-bound Cupid. The cherub waved the business end of his bow and arrow at two cops who held pistols and strained gazes pointed at him.
“I should have known!” Cupid sobbed. His cherub cheeks glowed shame-red. “She was always going to be too good for me!”
The cops looked at Evans, then back at the angelic perp as Evans knelt beside Cupid. His knee settled on something sharp, and he plucked a tooth from the carpet. A child’s tooth. A couple cavities as though the tyke had ingested way more sugar than he should have.
“She was so disgusted with me she didn’t even take the tooth,” Cupid blubbered. “I just wanted to get her attention. To get her to look at me.”
Slow recognition dawned on Evans and he rested an arm on Cupid’s shoulder. “Maybe the Tooth Fairy isn’t right for you, but I know there’s someone.” Evans paused. “Love could be closer than you think.”
Cupid looked up at Evans with sparkling eyes. “Really?”
Evans blushed. “Your arrow nicked my finger. It’s probably not real, right?”
Cupid laughed, tinkling snowbells. “The arrow only works if it hits the heart.”
Evans wrapped the tiny grizzled angel in his arms. To the policemen, he said, “I’ll take it from here.”
The cops escorted Evans and Cupid out of the house, past the family and the flashing lights, to the old Civic. The cherub’s bearded chin snuggled cozily into Evans’ chest and the priest wore a comfortable smile. They drove into the night, leaving the confused cops scratching their heads.
“Weirdest damn home invasion I ever seen.”
–END
Author’s Note: I wrote this for Writing Battle, the prompts being Genre: Rom-Com, Character: Matchmaker, Object: Lollipop, Word Count: 1000. I liked the idea of Father Evans as a recurring barely competent exorcist, and I wanted him to find love.
Copyright 2024 Abram Dress