Cupid Shoots Pool
2003-03-21 - 7:13 p.m.

Cupid drew back his pool cue. All that was left was the eight ball. It sat on the worn green felt of the table, comfortable and feeling rather confident. Shiva stood on the other side of the table, three of her four arms moving rhythmically with the music playing in the bar, the other clutching her pool cue. She was sneering.

Cupid was having trouble concentrating. Playing pool with the queen of death would have been enough to wilt a weaker cherub.

He stared down the stick at the white sphere upon which this game rested. It had not been a good day for cupid. He needed this game. He had already decided to drink himself half to death if he lost.

Already today he had watching a warring couple split up. He strongly suspected they would not be reuniting. He had tried to shoot at least one half of the pair, but had been unable to get a clear shot.

After that, he had silently and invisibly tried to mediate a spat between two teenage lovers, Harry and Marlene. It had been going well, until the moment when the subject of their little tiff decided to join in. Her name was Helen, and she had flowing blonde hair and full lips, and she was smiling. Cupid supposed it had been the voluptuous "whatever-you-want" smile that had clinched the deal for Harry. Marlene cried for hours.

Finally, just before being challenged to a game of pool, he had tried unsuccessfully to manipulate a marriage proposal. His arrow had flown true, but his target had moved at the last minute, and, except for igniting the passions of a usually stoic oak, the dart had no effect. She said no.

Cupid called the corner pocket.

He lined up his shot.

He missed.

Shiva sunk it, and Cupid headed to the bar.

"Give me a Love Potion #9", he said, "and don't skimp on the vodka."