The Guardian Angel of Stupid Children
Jimmy was poised with a lighter in his hand and an arm doused in kerosene, when a bright light formed in front of him. He shielded his eyes from the brilliance, and wondered what horrible mistake he had made as the back of his eyelids glowed red. He was still standing though, and as he blinked the flash from his eyes, he was astonished to find an angelic figure had appeared before him.
“Put down the lighter and go wash your arm, James Gowan!” The creature’s voice was gentle, but resonant right into Jimmy’s bones. Jimmy dropped the lighter in fear.
“Who… who are you?” Jimmy’s mouth flapped the words like an open tent in the wind.
The creature pointed to the garden hose. “Go wash the incendiary liquid from your arm with yon yard spigot, and then I shall tell you.” Jimmy scurried over to the hose and washed his arm, until he was sure there was no kerosene left. “And hand me the lighter, Master Gowan.” Jimmy picked the lighter up from the ground and handed it over. The creature took it and it seemed to disappear into thin air. Jimmy’s head swivelled in confusion.
“Who are you?” Jimmy asked again, this time a little less afraid.
The creature stood upright and raised his hands outward and announced in a proud voice: “I am the Guardian Angel of Stupid Children.” And then, to add a flourish, he spread wide a pair of enormous glowing wings.
“But I’m not…” Jimmy stammered. “I’m not…” He stopped, slowly realising what was being implied.
“Stupid?” The angel folded his wings away. “You were about to set your own arm alight, James, resulting in burns and trauma and the horrifying of your poor mother, Deirdre! So yes, you are in fact, a stupid child.”
Jimmy hung his head, and scratched the ground with his foot. “But I know so much about Minecraft…”
“And yet you learn nothing about cause and effect in the real world, James!” The angel folded his arms judgementally.
Dejected, Jimmy went and sat on the swing. Only two weeks prior he had attempted to go all the way around on that swing. He had failed, only ending up face-down five meters away with a chipped tooth. “I don’t wanna be a stupid child,” he said, and began to sob. He wiped a thick trail of snot onto the collar of his t-shirt.
It was then that the Guardian Angel of Stupid Children took pity on the child. He sat, as best he could, on the swing next to Jimmy. “James. Jimmy.” He thought for a second about what to say, drawing on his infinite angelic wisdom. Finally he spoke. “You should always ask yourself, ‘will this burn me?’ or ‘will this break my arm?’ or ‘will this get my parents arrested for child endangerment, even though it was entirely my idea?’.” The angel was surprised to find himself swinging a little, enjoying the earthly physics of it.
Jimmy straightened his back and wiped his eyes. He was suddenly resolved to change. “I’ll be boring, I promise! I won’t make anymore ninja stars, or body surf down the stairs on the ironing board!” He stood up in a rush, the swing hurtling away, to plead face-to-face with the angel. “I’ll stop working on my parachute!”
The angel swung gently as he pondered the change that had come over the child. “James… Jimmy… You do not have to live a boring life. You can read books, or study insects in your yard — not venomous ones. You can put on sock puppet plays for your mother, or draw comicked books. There are many ways to enjoy yourself safely down here on Earth.”
Jimmy smiled. Relief and resolve settled on his face. He was suddenly full of youthful hope again — though a different, more sensible kind than before. “Thank you, Guardian Angel! I don’t need you anymore, because from now on I will be a Sensible Boy!” Then he struck a triumphant pose that the angel could only assume he’d learned from an animated picture show.
The angel smiled. He was proud of himself, usually fear was enough. But this new, gentler, tack was promising. The angel stood up from the swing. “Very good, James. I bid you farewell.” The angel glowed brightly before fading into nothingness.
A week later, Jimmy lost the hearing in his right ear after setting off three reels of cap-gun caps inside a biscuit tin in the garden shed.
The Angel let it happen.
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