He stood by the rusty swing set at Sacred Heart Elementary in Jersey City, kicking gravel and watching ants march along cracks in the concrete.
The angel glided down, wings radiant like sunshine, robes shimmering softly as if woven from moonlight.
“Joseph,” the angel intoned, voice melodious and reverent, “you have been born of Mary, gifted with infinite wisdom.
Speak the words, and humanity will follow.”
Joey cocked an eyebrow suspiciously, squinting up at the celestial visitor. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me right now?”
The angel paused, confused.
This was not the reaction expected. “Joseph, your destiny…”
“Destiny, my ass,” Joey spat, crossing skinny arms over a grubby t-shirt. “I know what happened to the last poor bastard your boss picked. They nailed his ass to a cross. Looked real fuckin’ painful. Hard pass.”
“Joseph, humanity needs guidance,” the angel pressed gently.
“Humanity can kiss my ass,” Joey said, turning away. “Your boss stuck me in a house where Dad thinks belts fix broken brains and Mom prays to statues then lies about bruises at PTA meetings.
If that’s divine fuckin’ wisdom, count me out.”
The angel, saddened but persistent, vanished into a shimmer of starlight.
The angel returned when Joey was sixteen, smoking behind Saint Peter’s High School, eyes glazed, shoulders tense. “Joseph, the wisdom within you…”
“Listen, Halo-head,” Joey interrupted, flicking ash aggressively, “didn’t we already do this shit?
Wisdom my ass.
Look around.
Drugs, gangs, bullshit wars over bullshit reasons.
Your people had their shot, and they crucified it.
So take your fluffy wings and fuck off.”
In his twenties, Joey was stocking shelves at the supermarket, when the angel appeared again.
Joey sighed heavily, tossing canned peas onto a shelf.
“Joseph, you must…”
“Must nothing,” Joey snapped, voice sharp but quiet. “I got rent, bills, and a girl who’s pregnant. Life’s real enough without your holy bullshit. Save somebody else.”
The years rolled on, Joey becoming a father, husband, and eventually, an exhausted, middle-aged man staring down mortality.
One evening, standing in his backyard smoking a joint, the angel appeared softly once more, the glow dimmed now by disappointment and age.
“Joseph,” the angel began, softer now, almost pleading. “It’s not too late. Humanity can still be redeemed.”
Joey looked up, eyes tired but clear, voice steady and resolute. “You still don’t get it.
They don’t want redemption.
They poison the water, choke the air, slaughter each other for scraps.
War is still their best idea.
Your boss gave us paradise, and we turned it into a garbage heap.
Let them face their own extinction; maybe they’ll finally learn something.”
The angel watched quietly, sadness deepening the light of its eyes. “You could have saved them.”
Joey flicked the joint onto the ground, grinding it under his boot. “Nah. They gotta save themselves first. Until then, shove your eternal wisdom up your ass.”
And with that, the angel faded, leaving Joey alone beneath a sky darkening with twilight, stars flickering uncertainly in the distance.
EDW•
