A guardian angel is an angel assigned to protect and guide a particular person or group, kingdom or country. Belief in guardian angels can be traced throughout all antiquity. The concept of tutelary angels and their hierarchy was extensively developed in Christianity in the 5th century by Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite.
The theology of angels and tutelary spirits has undergone many refinements since the 400s. Belief in both the East and the West is that guardian angels serve to protect whichever person God assigns them to, and present prayer to God on that person's behalf.
But suppose the individual holds themselves in greater esteem than they do the creator? Or perhaps the assigned guardian angel has taken respite from their senses, what happens to the angel, what happens to the individual?
It has been nearly two hours since Gene Banton Junior excused himself from the dining room table following another heated argument over lunch with his father. So many arguments in so many days can wear thin on a person and Junior quickly found himself wanting none of it and removed himself from the scene, and further aggravation in favor of an afternoon nap.
His body stirs abreast the billowy king-sized Serta mattress, nestled beneath a royal purple satin blanket. He clutches one of four pillows tightly to his chest with a second tucked in between his legs and the remaining two serving as the intended head rests. But try as he may, his mind could not escape the contentious scene with his father and replayed it incessantly, going over every little nuance with a fine toothed comb, refusing to leave matters to be.
”You need to pull your head out of your ass for once and listen to me”! His father’s eyes burned into him with a molten gaze singing his thoughts with fiery retort. “Yes, you did indeed look good against Simon Jones last time out, but you have got to understand that it was in an inter gender tag team match. He didn’t have anything to lose against you that night..,”
“He had the tournament to lose pops,” Junior replies smugly, interrupting.
“Bullshit!” Gene Senior fires back. “Let me explain something to you boy, he had just won the Heavyweight title and that’s where all of his focus was the last time. He didn’t give a rat’s hairy ass about the tournament once the big one was his. You conveniently forget that I’ve been there myself and I can tell you for certain that he was just going through the motions that night; he wanted to preserve his energy for title defenses which, in case you haven’t been watching, he has yet to lose! You haven’t experienced him on top of his game yet. You have no idea what he has in store for you, and you have no idea how athletic he really is..,”
“Oh please..,” Junior snorts obnoxiously. “My bowel movements are more athletic than Simon Jones. He is the one who has no idea of what he is in for”.
“Oh I think he understands better than you do. You know how ferocious a cornered animal can be and it will be him who is cornered Sunday night. Remember, Simon is the champion and that makes him a giant among the men in this sport and he has everything to lose, not to mention everything to gain by being the one the derail this train ride you’ve been on lately and you can bet your mother’s subscription to Weekly World News that he’s going to be studying everything he can about you in preparation”.
“And you can bet my subscription to I don’t give a fuck weekly that I am going to beat his ass”.
“I don’t believe it..,” Gene senior sighs while reaching up for a double fisted grip on his hair which he pulls upwards with an anguished groan. “You’re proceeding through all of this with blinders on as if nothing can touch you. Damn it son, I don’t think your Guardian Angel gives two zits on a zombie’s ass whether you win or lose this match. They’re not going to be in that ring getting their heads kicked in by Simon Jones, it’s going to be you. You need to wake your arrogant ass up smell the coffee. Take those flippin’ blinders off, pull your head out of your ass this one time and listen to me. I’m trying to help you”.
“Yeah..,” Junior mutters while rising from the table, pushing his plate in. “Migraines are great motivators. Look, I’m gonna go take a nap and maybe pray to my Guardian Angel for help against the giant Simon Jones,” he says sarcastically stepping towards the stair way. “Why don’t you go masturbate to his picture?”
“God damn it”.
“God didn’t damn it pops, the beavers did”. Over and over the scene replayed itself in his thoughts as he tossed and turned beneath the blanket. He wraps a pillow around his head hoping to stifle the thoughts and allow sleep to overtake them. Slowly but surely his heart rate begins to decline and his breathing slows as the images of his father’s scowling face are enveloped by the darkness brought forth beneath the veil of sleep.
”I don’t believe it! Junior is being manhandled by Simon ‘The Skull crusher’ Jones! It’s as if he is nothing more than cannon fodder to the champ!”
“It doesn’t help that Geno is normal sized while Simon is 143 feet tall and weighs over 25 tons”.
“FEE – FI – FO - FUM..,
I smell the blood of a little one!
Be he alive, or be he dead,
I’ll grind his bones to make my bread”.
The crowd collectively gasps in horror as the giant reaches down and grasps Junior with a beefy hand. Lifting the youngster up the giant pulls his head in closer for a good whiff.
“Yes,” the giant smiles in approval while hoisting Junior up high overhead. “This one will make a delightful morsel”.
Suddenly Simon Jones slams his challenger into the mat with bone jarring force resulting in a thunderous jolt to the arena floor. Geno lies unconscious on the mat as the champions covers him with a single toe and the official drops into position to make the count..,
One..,
Two..,
Three!
“Incredible! Simon Jones has successfully defended his SCW heavyweight championship for the 16,437th consecutive time”.
“Somebody grab the spatula to scrape what’s left of the challenger from the floor”.
The show concludes as Junior remains prone on the floor with the announcers saying their goodbyes to the fans at home. The fans filter from their seats and into the aisles, their hopes of seeing a new champion for the first time in 36 years dashed by the heavy foot of the champion. The arena crew slowly begins to emerge from the back and start disassembling the ring, oblivious to the still unconscious challenger while the outer lights are shut down, leaving only the overhead lights for the crew to work under.
“Hey stupid, wake up, the show is over”.
Feeling the soft sting of a hand being gently slapped across his cheek, Junior’s eye flutter briefly before opening where they are greeted by a lovely sight; a dark hair angel with a gleaming gold halo and shimmering black wings leaning over him. The woman, with a porcelain complexion which is offset by piercing blue eyes and a bronze crucifix dangling from a spiked leather choker around her neck looks over the battered challenger with a frown.
“Who.., who are you?” Gene stammers trying to regain his bearings.
“My name is Dina, and God hates me,” she says reaching out with a hand to help him up. “So he made me your guardian angel”.
“Please..,” Junior groans while bringing himself back to his feet. “You’re just another one of my groupies, only you’re wearing a kickass pair of wings”.
“You don’t have any groupies’ dumbass,” she snaps. “Not unless you count your love dolls”.
“Hey, those are action figures!” He fires back. “Besides, I’ve seen those bible pictures and stuff and every angel looks like a cherub with white wings. Your wings are black”.
“That’s because God works on this idiotic demerit system,” she replies gruffly. “We all start with white wings but every time we fuck up he turns a feather black”.
“A single feather?” he muses aloud upon noticing only four white feathers left. “Damn, you’ve been busy. What about the clothes?” He challenges. “Every angel I’ve seen wore a white toga, but you’re wearing black halter top – nice boobs by the way – with a skull and cross bones with cutoff jeans, torn fishnets and hiking boots. That’s hardly angelic, you know? And what’s with the spiked dog collar?”
“That’s my choker you shit for brains! The fact is God lets us dress any way we want, he doesn’t care”.
“Uh huh,” Gene replies smugly, “says the goth babe”.
“Look, what do I need to do to prove to you that I am your guardian angel?”
“Throw me on the ground and screw my brains out”, Junior says with a shrug.
“Ugh!” Dina exclaims with a twisted grimace. “I’d rather not, besides, God has forbidden us to have sex with morons.., err, with mortals. You’ll have to come up with another idea, something that won’t make me sick, even if I could get sick”.
“That would be motion sickness my little tootsie roll, it’d pass. But hey, It’s your loss baby,” Gene replies with a smug grin. He lowers his head in thought planting his square jaw into the cusp of his right hand as he sets his mind to work. “Ok,” he says hitting upon an idea. “How about you blow up the city? I’ve never liked this place anyway.., too damned hot”. He lifts his eyes towards Dina with uncertainty, not fully expecting her to accept.
“Now you’re talking!” Dina cries out gleefully, her brightened eyes surprising him. “If there’s one thing I’m good at its blowing shit all to hell”, she says rubbing her hands together in excited anticipation. “Let’s take a ride, find a good vantage point”.
Suddenly a cloud appears beneath the duo’s feet, gripping them firmly and then hoisting them aloft. They ride on the cloud high above the cityscape, elevating with each passing moment until the entire valley can be seen, the expansive, over the top mega resorts appearing to them as small specks against the desert backdrop. Taking in the scene beneath her Dina raises her hands, stretching them outwards and appears ready to fulfill her charge’s wish but abruptly stops short.
“Wait,” she says.
“Wait? Wait for what?” Junior demands.
“I need some music, music to destroy to”, she answers with a light gesture of her right hand. No sooner than she completes her sentence the pair finds themselves enveloped by the hard slashing guitar riffs of “Symphony of Destruction” by Megadeath. “There we go, now we’re ready to blow some shit up”.
Obeying a silent command, a large, round yellow bomb materializes before them, its bright metal coat gleaming beneath the warm rays of the afternoon sun. Dina looks over the device and extends her index finger beginning to draw a ‘smiley face’ on the sides of the device.
“A bomb..?” Geno asks while raising his left eyebrow. “Why not just wave your hands or do something magical?”
“A bomb is more personal,” she replies. “You can assemble it, touch it, and feel the warm, wholesome radioactive goodness pulsing beneath the shell. It’s like being pregnant and feeling the baby kick for the first time. You smile and relax, knowing that your baby is destined for great things”.
With a final gesture of her hands Dina adds the finishing touches to the device. Stepping back she looks on smiling in satisfaction only to see her smile dissipate upon the realization of an omission. Quickly she raises her right hand as a black sharpie marker materializes in its grasp. Gripping the marker she leans against the side of the bomb and writes out ‘Gia’ and then steps back allowing the smile to return to her face.
It’s important to name your children, isn’t it?” She says with a loving gleam in her eyes before enclosing the youngster in a tinted, though transparent shield. “This will protect your face and body from the opening flash of light and the heat. Now watch and learn young padawan”.
Her pale face evolves into a twisted grin, her bright blue eyes shimmering with delight as the bomb is cut loose from its unseen tether and starts its freefall to the bustling city below. Looking over the edge of the cloud Gene finds himself held into place by an unseen barrier encircling the cusp of the plush base on which they stand.
Both now lean over the edge looking down intently as a sharp whistle trails the falling bomb. Suddenly, and with a great deal of alacrity a blinding flash of white light envelopes the entire city as the hydrogen isotopes are fused together to form helium which is promptly ignited to create the first stage of the explosion. The heat from the fused hydrogen atoms quickly expands outwards fusing additional atoms and fueling the additional stages which accelerate the heated expansion thereby creating a hot zone measuring in excess of a hundred million degrees Celsius around the center of the blast.
The flash of light, as quick as a lightning strike but more than ten times as bright gives way to the super-heated radiation of the fused isotopes which burns material and creates intense x ray pulses lethal over a distance of nearly 87 miles. As the fireball begins to emerge and rise a sudden over pressure created by the heat and well above atmospheric level propagates away from the center as a shockwave containing the majority of the energy released creating winds strong enough the make even the fiercest F5 tornados appear more like simpering wimps, especially as it combines with the heat and vaporizes anything and everything within its considerable radius.
The shockwave continues to expand until its outer edges have encircled the entire Las Vegas valley. At this point it finally begins to lose steam and is pulled back towards the center of the blast zone by a sharp and near instantaneous drop in air pressure created by the burning of the oxygen in an after wind which is violently thrust upwards upon reaching the epicenter creating the frighteningly familiar mushroom cloud. The violent tremors wrought by the massive force of the explosion slowly begin to subside as the after wind reaches the center of the blast forcing the mushroom cloud higher and higher into the sky.
As the head of the mushroom cloud continues to rise, matching the height of the mischievous pair’s base, Dina extends her right index finger with a light smirk and draws another ‘smiley face’ onto it as she had done with the fuselage of the bomb moments ago.
More than ten thousand feet below them, the dust finally begins to settle and allows Junior to finally gauge the extent of the destruction. Peering over the edge he is able to discern a crater, more than 15 miles in diameter occupying what was once the famous Las Vegas strip and extending further still, past the remains of Nellis Air Force base billions of tons of rubble reaching out in every direction towards the base of the mountains enveloping the valley. Fires burn brightly all about, enough to make even the most vaunted wildfire appear more like a campfire. The city landmarks, including the ‘Welcome to Las Vegas’ sign at the south end of the strip, the 1,148 foot high Stratosphere tower, the scaled down Eiffel tower, and even the recreated Egyptian Sphinxes for the Luxor Hotel have all been reduced to smoldering ruins, now completely unrecognizable. Taking in the scope of the devastation Geno lets loose an incredulous whistle while rising back to his feet.
He turns around to face his guardian angel only to find Dina fondling her breasts, and with her back arched in ecstasy a soft moan slips through pursed lips alerting him to how she perceives the devastation wrought by her creation.
“Whoah”, he says, taking a step back. “Maybe I should leave you and your bomb alone”. Shaking his head he looks on in amazement. “God must really be hurting for angels”.
“Mmmm..,” she sighs softly turning to face her charge and showing no signs of personal shame. “Ooooh.., there’s nothing like a four stage 100 megaton thermonuclear detonation to get a girl’s juices flowing”.
“Whatever floats your boat I guess,” Gene mutters indifferently. “I’ve always preferred chicks myself”.
Gene turns his attention back to the edge of the cloud and leans over for another glance at the havoc only to find.., nothing out of the ordinary. The city, along with its landmarks and outlying suburbs have all been restored back to their natural splendor giving the young man a moment for pause as he contemplates the sudden change. His contemplation is interrupted by a thunderous voice emanating from the clouds overhead, striking down as a thunderbolt with its sudden fury..,
“Dina!” the voice cries angrily.
“Oh shit, it’s him.., run!”
Without waiting for a reply Dina the Guardian Angel lassoes her charge around the neck and pulls him behind her as she flies off of the cloud and hustles down towards the city in search of refuge with Junior dangling helplessly as would a dog tethered to a speeding car.
“Aren’t you an angel?” Gene protests while tugging at the lasso around his neck. “Why would you run from anyone?”
“Because, you knucklehead.., it’s him! You know.., the lord and savior, the almighty, the big kahuna? Now shut up and let me find a good place for us to hide”.
“We’re hiding from God?” He asks in disbelief. “Is that even possible?”
Flying through the city unbeknownst to the thousands of people milling about, the angel Dina and Gene Banton Jr. dart into and out of several buildings in search of a suitable place to hide from the creator of humanity. But she dismisses them nearly as quickly as she discovers them, casting them off with laconic remarks alluding to their stature, state of repair, visibility and foot traffic. Looking over the strip she spies a large congregation of people circling the Circus Circus resort and casino which has taken to shuttling their performers in and out of the big top tent and into the street in hopes of attracting people inside of their establishment. With her charge reluctantly in tow she touches down on the blistering concrete sidewalk as it bakes beneath the ultra violet rays of the omnipresent sun.
“This should work,” she says finally loosening Gene’s pseudo leash. “With all these people around he won’t pay it any mind”.
“Umm.., this is God we’re talking about right?” Gene asks. Receiving a faint nod from his angel in the affirmative he continues, “We’re trying to hide from the guy who created the heavens, the earth and me! Somehow I’m not sure that’s even possible”.
“You’re right Junior, it isn’t possible,” a soothing baritone voice blurts out from behind them and startling the pair. They spin on their heels and find themselves face to face with a tall, impeccably dressed older man wearing a white suit, tie, slacks and painfully polished shoes off of which the second generation star could discern his own image glaring back at him. “Hello Dina,” he says with the slightest hint of a smirk which draws an extended gasp from the black winged angel. “I see you’ve been misbehaving again”.
“Oh shit..,” Dina’s voice trails off once the identity of the dark skinned man with greyed hair dawns on her. “Err.., Hi God”.
“Extend your wings please,” the Lord and Savior says in a subtle command.
“Oh come on!” she cries. “He wanted me to prove that I’m an angel”.
“So you obliterated a city of over one million people? I think you could have done so more subtly than that young lady”. He extends his right hand reaching out to her, “Now extend your wings please”.
“But.., but I only have four white feathers left!” Can’t you just overlook it this one time? I mean, you’ve already fixed it, so no harm no foul, right?”
“So you can obliterate a city of 20 million next time?” He challenges. “I don’t think so”. He brushes the tip of his index finger over a soft, white feather at the edge of her left wing turning it black and nods to Junior, “You’re right,” he says. “I am hurting for angels”.
“So then why are you complaining?” Dina demands. “I just gave you a million fresh candidates!”
“I would prefer candidates who died by natural means, not on the whims of one of my screwball angels. Now, you’ve already interrupted my game to repair your handiwork so I feel it incumbent upon me to remind you of why you are here in the first place and that is to..,” he pauses allowing for his errant angel to finish his sentence for him.
“You want me to help Geno realize his destiny by taking the gold from the Giant Simon Jones,” she answers with a belated sigh. “Can I at least use a Trident 2 SLBM?”
“No.” God replies sternly while rolling his brown eyes upwards. “You may not use a nuclear tipped missile”.
“Oh come on!” Dina protests. “It’s only a 300 kiloton yield”.
“Don’t make me give you a 300 kiloton thermonuclear swat on the behind,” God says in warning. “Now get your butt to work so I can finish my game or I’m going to turn the rest of your feathers black and you know what comes next”.
“Sex..?” Gene muses aloud.
“No, not quite,” The Almighty replies with a muted chuckle. “Once an Angel’s wings are entirely black the offending Angel must submit to me for punishment. The punishment is generally dictated by the month and this month happens to be Justin Bieber month”. He pauses allowing for an ornery smirk to cross his face and then continues, “that’s right.., an entire month listening to Justin Bieber’s music. That means no food, no water, no nukes.., nothing but Bieber”.
Before Gene or his Guardian angel can react God disappears in a brief flash of white light leaving behind a warning which echoes off of the walls..,
“Get to work missy”.
“Shit, Dina exclaims while spitting on the ground. “I have to find some way to finish the month without getting in trouble again”.
“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask..,” Geno speaks up as an ageless question brought forth by God’s reference to ‘my game’ ventures to the fore front of his mind. “I always see these football basketball and baseball players thanking God and talking about how God willed them to win and so on.., Is God really that big a sports junkie?”
“You have no idea..,” Dina replies almost indignantly. “He bets on every single sporting event he can find. I’ve even seen him betting on Little League baseball! I have to give credit where it’s due though, I’ve never seen him lose a bet”. Spreading her wings Dina takes to the air reaching down to grab her charge before flying away. “Now come on, I have to help you get Simon Jones’ gold”.
Flying among the clouds the land below stretches out for as far as the eye can see, bestowing the sights and sounds of birds chirping and flapping their wings, an airliner roaring past, and the silhouette of the mountains which serves as a backdrop to another unexpected site, a beanstalk looming over the horizon from the confines of a crater within Nevada’s nuclear test sight. It towers above all, its leaves as large as a football field, with a stalk nearly a mile wide and thorns as large as a human body. Dina flies them closer to the beanstalk and sets Junior down carefully on one of the leaves.
“You have to climb this beanstalk to reach the giant Simon Jones’ castle in the sky,” she advises. “Once you’re there we have to figure out a way to take the gold from him. Now get to climbing! You can use the thorns as steps”.
Gene does as instructed, reaching out and grabbing one thorn to pull himself upwards and close enough to the next to grab that one as well. Step by step he begins his ascent up the giant beanstalk slowly climbing towards a destination obscured by the clouds. The trek is a long and arduous one, filled with many unforeseen obstacles; although posing no danger to the safety of Junior who occupies his time engaging in idle chit chat with his protector.
“So.., don’t you think God would have been better off making you an angel of destruction rather than a guardian angel?” He asks.
“I’ve said that a thousand times to him,” Dina replies floating lazily on her back with her hands cusped behind her head. Her eyes bear a taint of annoyance, which is echoed in her voice. Not at Junior or his question but at the almighty’s reasoning behind his declination. “God said that mankind is entering a new age and that he wants love and fellowship to reign over the earth”. Her voice trails off as her eyes travel downwards briefly before darting back up to meet Geno’s, “… fucking peace monger”.
“Wow, what a waste of talent”. Pulling himself up to the next rung Gene pauses to catch his breath. “Yeah..,” he huffs with renewed effort. “Peace does kinda suck. Hey.., what would you say was your best work; I mean which blast are you most proud of?”
“Hmmm..,” The angel rubs her chin in thought as images of wanton destruction cascade before her eyes as a silken curtain of blissful memories; mushroom clouds dancing in the sky, fires emblazoning entire mountain sides, volcanic eruptions laying waste to the countryside, and guided missiles exploding and releasing thousands of tiny cluster bombs which wreak havoc over an equal number of frightened soldiers. She smiles in fondness and says, “I think Mt. Vesuvius is probably my best work. Up in heaven they nick named it ‘Dina’s Joy’. Yeah, I’m pretty fond of that one”.
SIX HOURS LATER…
“Man.., does this thing ever end?” Pausing once more to catch his breath and to replenish his waning strength Geno plops his head down atop a branch and looks questioningly at his guardian angel. “Why can’t you just zap me a pair of wings too and we can just fly up there?”
“Ohh no..,” Dina exclaims while thrusting her palms outward. “You heard God, its Justin Bieber month and I only have three white feathers left. It’s too risky”.
“So spend two and save the last until after the end of the month,” Gene suggests in a dry heave. “The air is too thin up here, I can’t even breathe. Come on, surely God doesn’t want me to die here?”
“I don’t know..,” Dina sighs while pausing to consider the words of her charge. Justin Bieber month is by far and away the most diabolical punishment God has ever dreamed up before, but at the same time the month is nearly half over. Besides, God said nukes; he did not mention anything of helping to preserve the life of her charge. Finally, and with a shrug she acquiesces and a pair of black wings matching her own materializes on Junior’s back. “Just think what you want to do,” she advises. “The wings will take care of the rest”.
“That’s it huh..?” Gene asks. “Just think it and it will happen.., cool”. Closing his eyes Gene bows his head in thought as the right wings arches forward and then gently slips it into his pants. “Oh man, this feels awesome!”
“Get that wing out of your pants!” Dina demands. “You don’t know where that wing has been. Besides, we have to go get the giant Simon Jones’ gold”.
“Way to spoil the fun,” Gene relents, bringing the wing back out and joining Dina on a flight into the clouds. “I hope this is worth it that was better than sitting on my hand and putting it to sleep”. As the duo ascends towards the top of the beanstalk they fail to notice a short lived glow hovering over Dina’s wings as another feather is turned black, leaving only two white ones left.
Finally reaching the top; Gene and Dina rise to their feet to survey the landscape. For as far as they eye could see were fields of wheat and corn with a great castle off in the distance and a broad road winding through the fields leading directly to the front gate. After an extended trek the pair sees themselves approaching the front door. A truly massive structure, the door towers over them making everything near and far appear small and frail. Gene’s eyes gaze upwards in awe at the structure as he extends his hand to knock.
“I wonder if he has a hot wife.” He says, rapping his knuckles against the cold hard wood. “I sure hope so”.
“How do you know he even has a wife?” Dina asks.
“Her clothes are drying on the clothesline to the right of the house..,” he replies. “Unless Simon has a secret fetish we don’t know about”.
A thundering is heard across the valley as footsteps approach the door. With a creaking of the door knob it is opened and Gene finds himself looking up, way up at the wife of the Giant Simon Jones. The towering woman is a well-kept specimen, her head sporting glistening rows of sun kissed locks which gently frame a smiling face which looks down at him through shimmering hazel orbs. Craning his neck and standing on his toes Gene notices her figure hugging black mini skirt with matching bodice and a flowing gold sash. Her legs are clad with sheer nylons leading from her torso to her heeled feet. Looking into the skirt between her legs Gene grins,
“She’s not wearing any under wear,” he observes with delight.
“I was wondering if you could spare something to eat ma’am,” Gene lies. “I have not eaten since yesterday and my travels have been long. I am so hungry”.
Normally strangers do not lend themselves to kindness, but the giantess is far from normal and bears a kind heart. She looks down at him smiling warmly and says; “Very well little man; come in. But you must be quick about it, for if my husband Simon the Giant finds you here he will eat you up, bones and all”.
So in Gene went and Simon’s wife prepared for him a good breakfast, but before he had half-finished there came a thunderous knock at the front door which shook even the thick walls of the castle.
“Oh dear, it is my husband!” said the giantess in a terrible fright. “I must hide you somehow, somewhere he will never look”. Suddenly she lifted Geno from his seat and drops him into her bodice, between her heaving breasts.
No sooner than the Giant’s wife opened the door than her husband roared out;
“Fee fi fo fum,
I smell the blood of a little one.
Be he alive or be he dead,
I will grind his bones to make my bread”.
“Oh nonsense Simon,” his wife said. “You must be mistaken. “It is the Ox’s hide you smell”. Pausing to scratch below her bosom the giantess serves up a generous portion which she sets down on the table for him.
Simon takes his seat and digs into the meal vigorously; tearing the meat from the bone with authority and once finished with the meal he pushes back his plate to release a belch which rattles the walls.
“My wife,” he says. “Bring me my gold, I wish to relax”.
The giantess excuses herself from the kitchen and disappears into the hallway, scratching at her stomach before returning with Simon Jones’ SCW championship belt. He takes the belt from her and cradles it lovingly in his arm while counting the notches carved into the leather strap; symbols of previous triumphs. He does not notice as his wife continues to scratch herself, her hand inching ever lower, chasing an unseen antagonist. Before long the Giant’s head begins to drop as he falls into slumber and then he begins to snore; his snoring echoing off of the walls like a heavy thunder in the sky.
Upon seeing her husband fast asleep, the Giantess reaches into her skirt and pulls out the naked, squirming Gene. His arms and legs flail helplessly away as she takes him to the door which she opens with an aggravated huff. Dropping him into a free fall, her foot makes contact with his behind and lands with a muted thump which sends him careening through the air.
He sails across the sky and into the horizon with Dina in pursuit. It is nearly an hour of uncontrolled flight before Gene finally regains his bearings and uses the wings provided by his guardian angel to stop his fall. He stands still midair and shakes the cobwebs out as Dina approaches, her face bearing a menacing snarl.
“You fucking idiot!” she shouts. “You were supposed to steal the gold while he slept not get drop kicked across 27 time zones”.
Bringing his wings into action Gene glances at his perturbed protector; “I guess we’ll just have to try again”, he says. He flaps his wings directing his body back towards the direction of the castle in the sky and rockets away, again with Dina in pursuit.
The flight, controlled this time, is not so long as Gene learns that the capabilities of the wings allow him to travel faster than he had dared to imagine and in short order the two trouble makers find themselves back at the front door to the home of the giant Simon Jones. They land on the ground and Gene starts to muss his hair, subtly attempting to rearrange his appearance. Dina looks on in confusion, watching her charge go from his hair and on to his face. Peering into a pocket mirror he practices different facial expressions before settling on one sporting bloated cheeks, courtesy of blowing into a closed mouth. Reaching down to his wings he plucks a single black feather, a feather which is instantly replaced and brings it to his upper lip as a pseudo mustache.
“Ok, just what the hell are you planning?” Dina demands, not really sure if she is ready for the answer.
“It’s a disguise,” Gene says. “She may recognize me from the last time so I’m gonna pretend to be somebody else now”.
“That was barely an hour ago you meathead”.
“Trust me,” Gene replies with a sly wink and then turns to face the door. “I know what I’m doing”.
Just as before the giantess answered the door and glared down at the unexpected visitor, not recognizing him from earlier. She regards the tiny man with a frown as he speaks up to her with a faux lisp,
“"If you please, ma'am," said he, "will you give me some breakfast?"
"Run away," said she, "or my husband the giant will eat you up, bones and all. The last boy who visited crawled through my bra and into my under wear – off with you!” But the giantess has a kind heart and after a moment of thought she allows Gene back inside with a snickering Dina watching from above. She sits him in the kitchen in the same chair as before. Looking around he notes that the giant Simon Jones is nowhere to be seen. The giantess quickly prepares a plate and sets it before him; eggs the size of horses, bacon longer than a city bus, and biscuits heavy enough to crush a car; it is enough food to last him for months. Scarcely has he begun to eat than there is a great rumbling like an earthquake, and the giantess has only time to bundle Gene into the oven when in came the giant. No sooner was he inside than he roared;
“Fee fi fo fum,
I smell the blood of a little one.
Be he alive or be he dead
I will grind his bones to make my bread”.
His wife softly informs him he is mistaken and sits him down at the table where Gene had sat moments before. The giant polishes off the mammoth breakfast just as if it were a lark and calls out;
“Wife, bring me my hen”.
His wife does as instructed as reappears in the kitchen carrying a brown hen which she sets down on the table before the giant.
“Lay!” says the giant Simon Jones and at once the hen laid a golden egg. "Lay!" says the giant a second time; and she laid another golden egg. "Lay!" says the giant a third time; and she laid a third golden egg. Satisfied the giant then stretches out in his chair for another nap. His snoring soon begins to reverberate off of the walls clueing his ‘challenger’ in to his state of sleep.
The giantess, having forgotten about her small visitor ambles outside to tend the laundry as Gene, with a little help from his guardian angel opens the oven door and climbs up the table cloth and onto the top. He regards the golden eggs briefly with an arched eyebrow and continues to scan the kitchen for the coveted ten thousand pounds of gold; namely the SCW championship belt. With a shrug of his shoulders he begins to descend from the table to the floor, the belt nowhere to be seen.
“I guess I’ll just have to do his wife instead,” he says.
“Like hell,” Dina fires back in retort. “I’m not chasing you halfway around the world again; just use your wings and let’s go find it”.
Grudgingly the Goldenboy puts his wings to use and begins to flutter about the house in search of the elusive prize with Dina scanning a separate section. He searches the broom closet to no avail and darts into the bathroom. Finding nothing inside the bathroom he quickly flutters back out with a wrinkled face and quickly shuts the door behind him. He flies through the hallway and into the master bedroom where he spies the belt sitting atop a display case. The belt leans against a trio of golden eggs, precariously balanced into place and reflecting the light from the ceiling off of its golden plate. Gene rubs his chin pondering for a moment as for how to proceed.
“You have wings, remember?” Dina says having joined him in the master bedroom. “Just grab the belt, fly off and live happily ever after”.
“I guess you’re right,” Gene replies while reaching for the belt. “Let’s get the hell out of here”. Unfortunately his strength is not up to the task of hoisting the ten thousand pounds of gold as he is barely able to budge the SCW championship. The belt teeters atop the display case for a moment and tips over. It falls through the air followed by the golden eggs and lands on the solid wooden floor with a resounding crash. “Oh, shit”.
“Fee fi fo fum,
I smell the blood of a little one.
Be he alive or be he dead,
I will grind his bones to make my bread”.
With a fearful roar the awakened giant grabs his oak club and thunders through the hall and into the master bedroom while Gene struggles mightily with the belt. Dina quickly shrinks the belt to normal size allowing Gene to grab it, but no sooner than he begins his dash to freedom than the giant is on top of him, his beefy fingers wrapping around the little man tightly. Gene clings tightly onto the belt as he is carried back into the kitchen and summarily slammed onto the table. Taking a cleaver into his hand Simon Jones spreads Junior out while preparing to filet the squirming youngster.
Suddenly the cleaver falls onto the table, landing safely away from Junior. He looks up to see what has happened to find that the giant has been turned into a hen by his guardian angel. With a smirk Dina lands on the table to help Gene to his feet and as the pair are about to depart she turn to the excitedly clucking hen and says,
“Lay, mother fucker..,”
On command the hen instantly lays a golden bomb with a name inscribed on the casing which begins to tick. Gene, seeing what is transpiring draws his breath and shoots through an open window with Dina hot on his heels. The bomb continues to tick as Gene cradles the title belt with visions of grandeur permeating his conscious thoughts, singing his own praises and proclaiming himself the greatest SCW champion in history to the silent annoyance of his guardian angel. The pair dashes madly to the beanstalk but before they can reach it and begin their descent back to Earth the golden bomb affectionately named Junior’s Folly explodes. The blinding flash of light by the nuclear detonation is followed by a super-heated shockwave which slams into Gene and his angel with massive force thumping them with a thunderous jolt.“Get your ass up!”
Shocked by the sudden lifting and dropping of his bed by his father Gene shoots into an upright position gawking at the senior man as he prepares to lift the bed again. Junior quickly waves him off, showing that is awake and alert.
“Yo pops, hey it’s cool man, I’m awake”.
“Good, now let’s go get you ready for Simon Jones,” his father says while setting the bed back down.
“It’s all good pops,” Junior replies while stretching out his arms with a heaving yawn. “My guardian angel is with me”.
