Today’s flash fiction prompt: Write about a support group.
The Shoulder Folk Support Group
I had to break up a fight today. Shoulder angels are usually a calm bunch, but things got heated when a couple of devils showed up to taunt their twins. Barry had started the meeting with a lighthearted complaint.
“It’s not that I don’t want to give my person good advice. It’s just that he never listens to me.” Echoes of agreement followed, along with a few grumblings about how frustrating the whole system had become.
“Things were simpler in my day.” Greg chimed in, sipping a Frappuccino. We all pretended not to see the heavy whipped cream on his nose. “We didn’t even show up unless it was life or death. Even then, it didn’t matter much. The next plague would wipe out half our people, and we’d just be twiddling our thumbs until the world repopulated itself. Long waiting periods back then for a person.”
“Speaking of waiting,” I interrupted. “Sean is officially off probation and should be joining us soon.”
That little announcement earned more than its share of grumbles. If I heard right, at least one of them was an expletive.
“Sean’s a devil. You can’t seriously be thinking of letting him back here!” Barry shook his head.
“This group is for all shoulder folk, not just angels. And Sean has waited long enough. It’s so rare to have a devil in the group, we should appreciate that he still wants to come.”
“He’d better not sit next to me.” That from Sean’s twin, Sandler. The last time Sean was in a meeting, he’d set Sandler’s hair on fire. He said it was an accident, but –
“Hey there snoozers! I’m back!” Speak of the devil.
“Sean. Welcome!” I plastered on my best smile. A few shoulder angels joined in the attempt, but most averted their gazes or found something interesting on the walls. Greg scowled and took another sip of his Frap.
“Greg!” Sean slapped him on the back, and the cream slid up from Greg’s nose to his forehead. “Oops. Sorry pal. Isn’t it too late for you to be drinking something, anyway? Don’t wanna wet your clouds tonight.”
“Sean!” Greg’s face went beet red.
“Looks like rain in Cincinnati tonight!”
Greg glared at me, as if this were all my fault. In some ways it was. “Sean, why don’t you have a seat? We were just doing group share, if you’d like to jump in.”
“Sure, just as soon as my buddies get here.”
Barry’s veins bulged from his neck. “Buddies?”
“Yeah. Gloria and Benson are on their way.”
Gina popped up from the corner. “Gloria’s coming here? Why would you invite that witch? She doesn’t need support! She needs a straight jacket.”
“Such a mean thing to say about your evil twin, Darling.” Gloria materialized at the door, trailed by Benson, Barry’s twin, and two of his hellhounds.
Barry jumped up next. “Not the dogs!” He pressed a handkerchief to his nose. “Benson, you know I’m allergic!” Barry’s eyes landed on me. “Do something!”
Greg beat me to it, attempting to corral the dogs out of the room by splashing his Frappuccino at them. That only got them riled up. They started howling and, for the rest of the meeting, they wouldn’t stop.
I managed to get everyone into their seats and gave the floor to Sean. “Do you have anything to share?” I shouted over the dogs to be heard, but even I had started to wonder if this meeting would be productive. I looked to Benson, exasperated, but he just shrugged.
Sean rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Well, I do have something to share.” Despite the noise, his voice rang out smooth and clear. “The other day Sandler and I had a disagreement on how our person should handle a situation. I said he should whack the guy one, and Sandler told him to let it go. It was a really frustrating situation. The guy’s been down on his luck, and people walk all over him at work. He needed a win, you know?”
Sandler rolled his eyes.
“What happened after that?” I asked.
“Well, our person decided to whack the guy, of course. Which brings me to my dilemma.” Sean frowned and sighed, shaking his head. I leaned in closer. So did everyone else. A pregnant pause hung in the air as we all waited for him to continue. Sean looked up at us and smirked. “It’s just gotten too easy lately, you know? Sometimes I wonder if Sandler is even trying.”
“That’s enough out of you!” Sandler bristled. “You got him thrown in the slammer!”
“I got him three meals a day and a little dignity when he walks,” Sean threw back. “What’s listening to you ever gotten him? Bupkis.”
Sandler scoffed. “Of course a devil wouldn’t understand. All you care about is thrills and living in the moment. You’ve got no regard for consequences, or the future, or morality.”
“You mean boring stuff? Yeah, I’ll pass on all that.” Sean snapped his fingers, inducing a spark. He fiddled with the tiny flame on his fingers before letting it drop at Sandler’s feet.
Sandler lunged at his twin, knocking him from his chair and sending them both hurtling into the hounds. Things devolved pretty quickly from there.
Never a dull moment in the Shoulder Folk Support Group.
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