Bobsmash wasn’t the sort of angel most people think of when they consider a benevolent god - and to be fair, it wasn’t entirely clear which god Bobsmash worked for. Aphrodite claimed he’d plenty of love, but not the common-sense Athena gave a pigeon. Though again, being fair and all, Athena’s mantle of war might have confused the matter.
Bobsmash didn’t care. “Kill ‘em all, and let the gods sort ‘em out.” And, “All’s fair in…” It was a problem. Or a social dysfunction. “Bob. Smash. Muuuch better.”
It wasn’t until Bobsmash decimated the population of common terns throughout Nova Scotia, however, that the other angels really started to take notice. A canny flick of air current here, a supernatural spot of sunlight there - soon black headed birds were slamming into each other by the hundreds and falling from the sky, one pair at a time. A tenth of the population gone, the best birds and the brightest from each generation.
Eventually, one of the guardian angels was asked to step in.
“Bobsmash,” He said, “What the ever-loving hell are you doing?”
Bobsmash grinned. “It’s like this Pete. Those birds are just so beautiful, and caring and I finally figured it out.”
Pete watched as another pair dropped from the sky. “I’m supposed to be their guardian angel, Bobsmash. Only got assigned this morning. Just…can you stop now?”
Bobsmash’s grin got bigger. “Nope. It’s like they say, Pete. One good tern deserves another.”
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