If Carpets Could Rule The World (and other stories)

Ode to the Power of Pink

Usually, tapping half-naked men in the middle of the street wasn't a good idea.

But I'd seen him before, tightening his toga (or suit), pulling pink things from his briefcase to stick into the nearest person's behind.

As surfaces disappeared under pink hearts- not to mention the chubby baby holding a sign saying 'Happy Valentine's Day', I had to ask- what was he doing poking people with sticks in our plaza?

When I tapped him, the guy just sighed. "Mom, I'm busy. I know how to take care of myself." Black fabric spread over him in a... hoodie? "I've got this."

"I'm not your mother!" He swivelled around. A true ruffian. The black jacket he now wore, printed PARENTAL ADVISORY, didn't help. "I have no idea who you are!"

Close enough.

He studied me, fingers twitching. "You really don't know?"

"Nope."

"Hmm..." He waved his hand in front of me. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two?"

He moved it farther. "Now?"

"Two."

He took down a finger. "And now?"

"That's an obscene gesture, and one."

His eyes widened further. "You can see me. You can hear me. What's the protocol? Hermes? Help!"

"Are you okay?" I asked, not too kindly. "Lost?"

"I'm supposed to be back at Olympus soon, so yes!"

"I was going to say the mental hospital." He'd zoned out entirely. "Hello? Any explanations?"

Suddenly, his face was inches from mine. Then he swept back, mussing his hair and unzipping his jacket so RENTAL SORY was on display. He posed for a moment- then stopped. "Nothing?"

"Was something supposed to happen?"

He moaned. "Yes!"

"Okay, how 'bout this- you explain everything, and I see if I can help you in-" I checked my watch- "twenty minutes."

"I'm Eros," he said helpfully. "I'm supposed to be invisible, working-"

"Sticking people in the butt?"

He groaned again. "Why me, Zeus?"

"Zeus..." Something struck. "So they're real? The gods?"

"Yes. And I have no idea what's happening."

I frowned. "You're mentally disturbed, clueless, and possibly drunk?"

"Yes, yes, and... no!" He looked away. "Don't worry, my godly powers will blind you in a moment."

"Uh-huh... look, I don't think you're real. You're worrying me."

"Then how do you explain... this!" He plunged a pink stick into a passerby's arm. "Slow-acting. It'll work eventually."

"Love arrows?"

"Love sticks. I try not to wound anything but wounded hearts."

"Thanks?"

" I'd explain, but we haven't got time-"

"We?"

"-and we'd better get going." He beckoned me closer. "Come on."

Chills ran through me. If he was telling the truth...

...I had seven minutes to get to work.

"I can't come."

"What?"

"I have a job, I'd just-" I sighed. "Goodbye."

"Hey, you can't-" He stiffened as the pink stick thrust into his backside dissolved. I hope this works. "Whoa."

"Do you... feel different?" His blue eyes focused on me.

"I..." A deep breath. "Monika Blackwell, will you marry me?"

Where did he... my name's not even... One bright word flashed inside. "Run!"