The Stupidest Angel: A Heartwarming Tale of Christmas Terror

"Got it," Molly said. Then she noticed that the book recommended making a list of resentments. She wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to do with them, but in fifteen minutes she had filled three pages with all variety of resentments, including both parents, the IRS, algebra, premature ejaculators, good housekeepers, French automobiles, Italian luggage, lawyers, CD packaging, IQ tests, and the fucktard who wrote the "Caution, pastry may be hot when heated" warning on the Pop-Tarts box.

She paused for a breather and was reading ahead to step five when headlights swept across the yard and raked the front of the cabin. Theo was home.

" 'Step five, " Molly read. "'Confess to our higher power and another human being the exact nature of our wrongs. "

As Theo came through the door, Molly, her broken broadsword in hand, spun from the cinnamon candle of Nigoth the Worm God and said, "I confess! I did not file taxes for the years ninety-five through two thousand, I have eaten the radioactive flesh of mutants, and I resent the hell out of you for not having to squat when you pee.

"Hi, honey," Theo said.

"Shut up, grommet," said the Warrior Babe.

"So I guess I'm not going to get my Volvo washed?"

"Quiet! I'm confessing over here, ingrate."

"That's the spirit!" said the Narrator.

Chapter 7 MORNING IS BROKEN

It was Wednesday morning, three days before Christmas, when Lena Marquez awoke to find a strange man in her bed. The phone was ringing and the guy next to her made a moaning sound. He was partially covered by the sheets, but Lena was pretty sure that he was naked.

"Hello," she said into the phone. She lifted the sheet to look. Yep, he was naked.

"Lena, there's supposed to be a storm on Christmas Eve and we were going to have Mavis barbecue for Lonesome Christmas but she can't if it's raining and I yelled at Theo last night and went out and walked around in the dark for two hours and I think he thinks I'm crazy and you should probably know that Dale didn't come home last night and his new — uh, the other, uh — the woman he lives with called Theo in a panic and he —»

"Molly?"

"Yeah, hi, how you doing?"

Lena looked at the clock on the nightstand, then back at the naked man. "Molly, it's six-thirty."

"Thanks. It's sixty-seven degrees here. I can see the thermometer outside."

"What's wrong?"

"I just told you: storm coming. Theo doubts sanity. Dale missing."

Tucker Case rolled over, and despite being half asleep, he appeared to be ready for action.

"Well would you look at that," Lena thought to herself, then she realized she'd said it into the phone.

"What?" said Molly.

Tuck opened his eyes and smiled at her, then followed her gaze south. He pulled the sheet out of her hand and covered himself. "That's not for you. I just have to pee."

"Sorry," Lena said, pulling the sheet quickly over her head. It had been a long time since she'd had to worry about it, but she suddenly remembered a magazine article about not letting a man see you first thing in the morning unless he'd known you for at least three weeks.

"Who was that?" Molly said.

Lena made an eye tunnel in the sheet and looked out at Tucker Case, who was getting out of bed, totally unself-conscious, totally naked, his unit leading him into the bathroom, waving before him like a divining rod. She realized right then that she could always find new reasons to resent the male of the species — unself-consciousness was going on the list.

"No one," Lena said into the phone.

"Lena, you did not sleep with your ex again? Tell me you are not in bed with Dale."

"I'm not in bed with Dale." Then the whole night came rolling back on her and she thought she might throw up. Tucker Case had made her forget for a while. Okay, maybe she could count that as a positive toward men, but the anxiety was back. She'd killed Dale. She was going to jail. But she needed to pretend she didn't know anything.

"What did you say about Dale, Molly?"

"So who are you in bed with?"

"Dammit, Molly, what happened to Dale?" She hoped she sounded convincing.

"I don't know. His new girlfriend called and said he didn't come home after the Caribou Christmas party. I just thought you should know, you know, in case it turns out that something bad happened."

"I'm sure he's okay. He probably just met some tramp at the Head of the Slug and sold her on his workingman charm."

"Yuck," Molly said. "Oh, sorry. Look, Lena, they said on the news this morning that a big storm is coming in off the Pacific. We're going to have El Niño this year. We have to figure out something for the food for Lonesome Christmas — not to mention what to do if a lot of people show up. The chapel is awfully small."

Lena was still trying to figure out what to do about Dale. She wanted to tell Molly. If anybody would understand, it would be Molly. Lena had been around a couple of times when Molly had gone through her "breaks." She understood things getting out of control.

"Look, Molly, I need —»