Sunday Morning Angel
By My Little Worm Cliff — Featuring: Bug Crush
So there I was, waiting at a bus stop on a warm spring morning, not in any particular hurry to go anywhere. My car was in the shop and I was sick of asking friends for a lift, so I humbled myself to take the damn bus today just to get out of the house. Maybe I’d go sit in a bar, or waste the day at the zoo.
I didn’t expect to see her here – a Sunday morning angel, for certain. She was a dark-haired beauty with big dark eyes and the complexion of a Greek goddess. This goddess, most appropriately, was on her way to church. She carried a Bible tucked lovingly under one arm, she wore a Sunday-best dress and her firm, pretty calves were melting me in ivory knee-high hose.
I did my best not to stare but I will tell you this, I had a strong desire to convert on the spot to whatever church she attended.
She smiled at me and I smiled back, feeling weak. The spring breeze carried the floral scent of her perfume and of her sun-warmed hair.
I looked down at the ground, not wanting to spook her. My eyes locked on her gorgeous sandals and the perfectly painted nails on her toes. She was on her way to worship, I was already there.
Then I saw it, a long, wiggly worm, stretching itself across the concrete, apparently trying to escape the lawn behind us, where a vigorous sprinkler was at work.
She saw it, too, after a minute. It worked its way directly in front of her. I wondered what she would do – ignore it, scream or be a good Christian and save it.
My angel stepped on it.
Did she ever!
She lifted up one lovely leg and stepped down upon the back end of the thing and twisted her foot back and forth, bearing down hard and crushing her prey like a cast-away cigarette. The part of the creature that was not being destroyed beneath her, thrashed wildly, writhing helplessly against the pressure of her heavenly sandals.
I was stunned, absolutely stunned. At least a full ten seconds passed of worm fighting against girl and losing, badly.
Now she lifted her shoe casually to examine her work. I thought I saw a faint smile upon her beautiful face. The un-smooshed half of the worm was still twisting in its invertebratey misery. She left it there a moment, then finally lowered her shoe and finishing stepping on the thing. In the stillness of the morning, the scrape-scrape of her shoe upon the pavement was as clear and loud as a church bell.
Our bus was here. She left the mess of the worm behind her without a glance back and boarded the bus and I stumbled aboard behind her, still dazed – and utterly in love. I was going to church today, I realized. And with any luck, I’d be married in that church, as soon as possible, to this angel-faced beauty with a Bible in her hand and no mercy beneath her feet.