The baby with Depends

This is just an eccentric piece i felt like doing for the holiday. I don't really care if it was corporate made or not, the feeling of love is inside me and I'm allowed to express it today! I LOVE YOU!

Authors note: While I was writing this, I thought the entire thing with a deep, macho, awesome announcer voice, so I'd appreciate it if you read it as such. It certainly loses the light hearted feel if you think of it in cutesy terms.


He descends from the sky. A fat baby with plush down wings, armed with an elfen made longbow and a quiver of enchanted crimson arrows makes his way towards Hallmark.

"Reporting for duty sirs!" He drools, feet plopping onto the roof of the vast corporate building.

"You are late, we wanted to send you off earlier than this. How will we enchant the masses now?"

"Sirs, you seem to misunderstand what exactly it is I can do. If I'm an obese baby with wings who can fly around and sniper people with a bow and NOT be seen, what makes you think that I obey the other laws of the universe?"

"True true. Here, make sure people feel compelled to buy our nasty cardboard sweets. Oh, these cards too. Maybe a stuffed bear? And-"

"I get it. Spend money, invest in hallmark, pretend to love one another. Guys, I've been doing my job since they invented the short bow. True, we didn't start out with making sales, but the sentiment was still there."

"Then get at it. You've got two hours till midnight."

"Aye, aye captain!" Diaper to the wind, the cherub ascends into the sky with an arrow notched in his bow. He's going to make his day count, and he should. He really only works hard once a year.

Diving, darting, rolling, reeling, flying about geese with finesse muttering, "I thought all these damned things migrated already" as a new flock arose. Night walkers can still be found on the sparsely populated streets of New York City. Partiers drunk, staggering around, fishing for keys to cars they're too drunk to know they shouldn't drive.

screeeck. Fwipp!

The tip of the arrow slices through the air like a 40 caliber sniper rifle through butter at point blank range. It was goin' wicked fast, and much like that sniper rifle previously mentioned, it was dead accurate. With not a concious feeling of it at all, the blood red missle stuck right into the heart of a young damsel down below. Holding the hand of a cute boy next to her, she looks over to him, flutters her eyes, leans over, and kisses him with all the feeling that was rushing through her right then.

Naturally, the lovely Cupid had seen this happen many a time already, so his attention was alternatively placed to others.

Fwipp! Fwipp! Fwipp! Fwipp!

He was shooting like a machine gun. Here a target, there a target, everywhere a target target! Every single shot sent bullseye.

A nefarious giggle rang out (Giggles have been known to ring. I've heard it myself. Especially nefarious ones.)  as a fiery glee flared in the joyous Cupid's eyes.


The End

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