Surrounding him were ten utterly exhausted guardian angels.
Some looked frazzled, wings slightly singed. Others had dark circles under their eyes, their celestial glow dimmed by stress.
One angel was muttering into his hands, rocking back and forth.
Another was clutching a clipboard covered in stress-induced scribbles.
A halo flickered like a faulty lightbulb.
Arias clapped his hands together.
“Alright, everyone,” he said, smiling. “Welcome to ‘Guardian Angels Anonymous.’”
The angels let out collective groans.
“We know why we’re here,” one muttered.
Arias grinned. “Yes, but saying it out loud is part of the healing process.”
The angels grumbled.
Arias nodded toward the angel rocking back and forth. “Gabriel, let’s start with you.”
Gabriel lifted his head, looking traumatized.
“My human—Kevin—tried to do a backflip off his roof.”
Arias nodded. “And how did that make you feel?”
Gabriel threw up his hands. “Like I’m babysitting a sentient watermelon! I had to use divine intervention just to make sure he landed in the bushes instead of the pavement!”
The other angels murmured in sympathy.
“I feel you,” said Ezekiel, rubbing his temples. “Mine keeps running into traffic while texting.”
Another angel, Lucia, groaned. “Mine joined a reality show. I have to work overtime just to keep them from getting kicked out of the house via chair-related accidents.”
Arias nodded solemnly. “Guardian work is tough.”
The angels all sighed in unison.
Then Arias grinned. “Good thing I have some stress relief activities planned.”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The angels groaned again.
Arias rolled out a dartboard.
But instead of numbers, it had categories like:
- “My Human Almost Died (Again)”
- “They Just Won’t Listen”
- “Why Are They Like This?”
- “Existential Crisis”
Lucia squinted. “What’s this?”
Arias grinned. “Every time you hit a category, you get to rant about it for sixty seconds.”
Gabriel immediately picked up a dart.
He threw it.
Bullseye: "Why Are They Like This?"
Gabriel stood up.
“WHY,” he began, voice already breaking, “DID KEVIN DECIDE TO MICROWAVE A FORK?!”
The angels all groaned in agreement.
“I swear,” said Ezekiel, “they’re just chaotic energy given human form.”
“I caught mine trying to fix a toaster with a screwdriver—WHILE IT WAS PLUGGED IN.”
“Mine adopted a raccoon.”
Arias chuckled. “See? Therapeutic.”
Lucia crossed her arms. “What else you got?”
Arias grinned.
“Bowling.”
The bowling alley was closed to mortals for the evening.
Arias gestured dramatically at the lanes.
“Nothing like knocking things over to release pent-up frustration.”
Gabriel picked up a bowling ball. “If I imagine this is Kevin’s terrible decision-making, will it help?”
Arias nodded sagely. “Absolutely.”
The angels bowled with divine vengeance.
Pins flew.
Balls glowed.
One angel used holy light to guide their ball into a strike every time.
Arias raised an eyebrow. “Hey. No cheating.”
The angel shrugged. “I guard a politician. I need this.”
Arias let it slide.
After bowling, they returned to the support circle.
Arias stood. “Alright. Final exercise.”
He tossed a halo in the center of the circle.
“We’re going to play ‘Roast Your Human’—but with love.”
Lucia squinted. “Explain.”
Arias smirked. “We all know we love our humans. But sometimes? They are dumb. This is a safe space. Let’s air it out.”
Gabriel immediately raised his hand.
“My human thought he could ‘train’ a goose to be his emotional support animal.”
The angels erupted into groans.
Ezekiel shook his head. “Mine once argued with a GPS because he ‘trusted his gut more than satellites.’”
Lucia sighed. “Mine started a podcast.”
Another angel piped up, “Mine bought a cursed mirror on eBay.”
Silence.
Arias raised an eyebrow. “Did you smite it?”
“…I tried.”
Arias nodded. “Good effort.”
Then, Ezekiel stood up. “Wait. Are we… not keeping score?”
The angels stopped.
Lucia nodded. “Yeah. I think mine’s definitely the worst.”
“No way, Kevin is worse,” Gabriel shot back.
Arias stroked his chin. “Alright. New rule. Biggest Disaster of the Week wins a prize.”
The angels cheered.
And thus, the Celestial Leaderboard of Mortal Menace was born.
Gabriel, holding Kevin’s title of #1 Dumbest Mortal, beamed with pride.
By the end of the session, the angels were relaxed, their burdens a little lighter.
Gabriel sighed. “Thanks, Arias. I think… I think I can handle Kevin for another century.”
Lucia patted his back. “Same.”
Arias smirked. “Glad I could help.”
Ezekiel stood. “Same time next week?”
Arias chuckled. “You know where to find me.”
As they left, one angel paused.
“Arias?”
He turned.
The angel smiled softly. “Do you have a guardian angel?”
Arias grinned.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But if I do, they’re probably very, very tired.”
The angels laughed.
And as they vanished into the heavens, a single white feather drifted down beside Arias.
Arias glanced at it.
He chuckled.
“Yeah… they’re definitely tired.”
And with that, he walked away, already planning next week’s group therapy chaos.