Cupid, God of Love, doesn't want to shoot any more arrows.
Eros, aka Cupid, the God of Love, doesn't want to shoot any more arrows.
"Cupid! What are you doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm sleeping or, at least, trying to sleep."
"Get up, Eros. Get out of bed. You're going to be late," said Psyche Cupid's wife.
"Late? Late for what?"
"Valentine's Day. Today is Valentine's Day. You'll be late for Valentine's Day."
"Oh, that, yeah, well, I'm not doing it today, Psyche. I just can't. I'm tired. I'm depressed. I've had it. I'm done. I'm staying home," said Cupid, aka Eros, pulling the covers over his head.
"Not doing it today? Tired? Depressed? Staying home? Are you nuts? You've worked all year for this one day. You can't stay home? This is the most important day of the year. People depend upon you, especially today, of all days, the day of love." His wife stared at the impression he made beneath the covers. "Today is Valentine's Day and you're Cupid. You can't stay home."
"People don't need me anymore," said Eros peeking up above the covers to look at his wife. "They have the Internet with one click dating sites now. Besides, it's no longer about love. It's all about sex and it's all about money. Romance is dead. People don't want to get married anymore. They just want to get laid."
"Don't be silly. Romance is not dead. There are still people getting married Cupid and the reason why they need you. Maybe you should talk to your friend, the one who this day is named after, Saint Valentine."
"Saint Valentine? He has his head in a Heavenly cloud. He'd never even see, never mind agree with my point."
"Then, I don't know what to tell you, Cupid, other than you just can quit helping people to fall in love. It's what you do," said his wife.
"There's a pox on marriages, I tell you. Too many marriages today are marriages of convenience. Now, there are actually even, arranged marriages and mail order marriages," he said taking a pause to wipe a tear from his eye, "loveless marriages, gay marriages, and marriages performed just to allow an illegal alien to stay in this country."
"Come on, give me a break with the Internet dating sites, arranged, mail order, loveless, gay, and illegal alien marriages. You're the God of Love, the Archer for Venus. You're above all of that. You have the gift and the magic arrows to change all of that. You're above the laws of mere mortals souls. You are Cupid, Cupid."
"The only thing I can change is how much longer I'll sleep. Awaken me when supper is ready. Good night. Oh, and Happy Valentine's Day to you, Psyche. I love you."
"Cupid! Get up! What would your Grandfather Zeus say about you shirking your responsibility and staying in bed with the covers pulled over your head on of all days Valentine's Day?"
"Go away. Leave me alone, Psyche. I'm sick. I don't feel well."
"If you cannot do it for yourself, if you cannot do it for humanity, if you cannot do it for love, then you must do it for your father, Hephaestus and your mother Venus. Now get out of bed this instant. Now Cupid! Now!"
"Okay, okay, I'm getting up. I'm up. Give me a minute. Just quit your nagging. Nag, nag, nag, you're giving me a headache."
"Hurry or you'll be late."
"I'll be late anyway. The flight traffic flying down from Mount Olympus is going to be a nightmare this time of day with all those jumbo jets filled with tourists coming and going. I nearly got sucked in an engine yesterday. I had to fly like a bastard to get away from the suction of that thing," he said slumping back to the soft comfort of his bed and waving a hand of disinterest. "I'll go later."
"Eros!"
"Okay, Psyche, I'm up already. I'm up."
"What's wrong with you, Eros? Why are you suddenly like this? I thought you loved your job. I thought you loved helping people fall in love. I thought you loved Valentine's Day. I thought it made you happy to help those people who wouldn't ordinarily meet or who were too shy to fall in love. What happened to your sense of romance? You said you loved a happy ending."
"Well, now that you bring it up, to be honest, I don't like living here," said Cupid sitting up in bed. "You said when we moved here from Mount Olympus in Greece to Mount Olympus in the state of Washington that things would be better. You said we'd be closer to California and with less time spent commuting, I wouldn't be gone from home as long."
"It is better Cupid. You're not gone half the time you were when having to make those long transatlantic flights. Not to mention, now you're safe from all the times the United States thought you were a UFO and threatened to fire a nuclear missile at your ass."
"Notwithstanding the transatlantic flights and the potential missile attacks, you said California was where all the action is. Only, I'm wasting my arrows on people who marry three and four and more times. Zsa Zsa Gabor, Liz Taylor, the late Lana Turner, Mickey Rooney, and the late Robert Evens have had thirty-two wives and husbands between, thirty-two, Psyche. How in the name of Zeus did they remember all their names?"
"That's Hollywood for you, Cupid, but you can't allow the select and privileged few to ruin your good day. Today is Valentine's Day, the day of love, the dawning of romance for those you grace with your golden arrow."
"I don't mind saying, Psyche, that I'm tired of shooting arrows at Geena Davis and Billy Bob Thorton. They've been married ten times between them. These people don't know what love is. They get married for no other reason than to get married. I don't understand. It' baffles me."
"Agreed, Hollywood and LA is nothing like Greece, but you can change all that by making people fall in love. Forget about those people who have been married multiple times. Obviously, there's something wrong with those people, Cupid. I wouldn't waste any arrows on anyone married more than twice is how I feel about it. Maybe that should be your cutoff point."
"This isn't the country of love, it's the country of sex and divorce and with all the violence and drive-by shootings, it's the land of hatred. I want to go home to Greece. I hate this country. These people don't know what love is even after I shoot them in the ass with one of my arrows."
"You take things too personally, Cupid," said his wife. "When you return home to the mountaintop, you need to separate yourself from your work life and your personal life. You're just stressed. You need to find a hobby. You need to find a leisure activity, something that will take your mind off of your job. You need to find something to relax you and make you happy."
"Hobby? Who has time for a hobby? Do you realize how many people there are in the world? Shooting arrows at people's asses is a full-time job."
"Oh, you exaggerate. Look at Santa Claus. He doesn't allow all the bad people to get to him. He delivers his toys to all the good children and then returns home to Mrs. Claus and the elves to make toys for next year and next Christmas. Making toys is his hobby and it allows him to not take his job so personally. That's what you need to do, get a hobby," said his wife.
"Except to make his appearance at the Macy's Day Parade, Santa Claus goes out one day a year. I'm out there every day, day in and day out, trying to encourage people to fall in love. I'm tired, Psyche. I'm bored. If I have to attend one more singles' night, one more dating bar, and one more singles' dance, I'll be sick. I don't get the joy out of doing this job in the way that I used to, when I was shooting arrows at people who wanted to marry and stay married, in the way they did in the earlier part of the twentieth century, the 30's, 40's, and 50's."
"There you go exaggerating again, Cupid," said Psyche. "You've made plenty of people fall in love and stay in love. Look at Will Smith and his wife Jada, Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson, Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick, Dan Akroyd and Donna Dixon, Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman, John Travolta and Kelly Preston, Stephen Spielberg and Kate Capshaw, Michael J. Fox and Tracy Pollan, Julie Andrews and Blake Edwards, they're all happy thanks to you."
"They are the exception to the rule," said Cupid with a discouraged look on his face. "For every one success, I can name a hundred failures. The last couples I remember feeling joy and self-satisfaction over was when I shot my arrows at Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, Jack La Lanne and his wife Elaine La Lanne, George Burns and his wife Gracie Allen, and Bob Hope and his wife, Dolores. Not only did those couples stay married, but they remained faithful. I thought I had that with Bill Cosby but even he strayed on his wife, Camille. Oh, the inhumanity of it all not taking the holy vow of matrimony sacred."
"I wasn't going to mention anything this to you, Cupid, especially now, since it's Valentine's Day, the holiest of day of love and romance, but since you brought up the gibberish about not taking the holy vow of matrimony sacred, you had lipstick on your collar again."
"Lipstick on my collar? Don't be ridiculous, Psyche. I, uhm, went to Mickey D's for lunch. It's ketchup."
"Just get through this one day, the most important day of the year, and when you come home, we'll discuss moving back to Greece and the ketchup on your collar. Okay?"
"Okay, I'll do it, but not for them, Psyche, for you."
Cupid grabbed his bow and his satchel of arrows and left his mountaintop for work. Tired of forcing people to fall in love with one another, he thought about a career change. Only, shooting arrows is the only thing he knew how to do.
If only he was a citizen of a country, if only he wasn't invisible, he'd participant in the Olympics as a champion archer. He'd win the gold medal, no doubt. He'd be famous. He'd have a book and a movie deal. He'd be on Oprah, Leno, Letterman, and Good Morning America.
Alas, for now, it was business as usual. Only, if he had to spend another Valentine's Day shooting arrows at people who were too busy or too nasty or too self-centered to fall in love, he'd go crazy. Then, he had an idea. For once in his life, why not have some fun, he thought? Why not spice up Valentine's Day a little? Psyche will never know. For if she knew, she'd harangue him for what he was about to do.
He remembered that tonight, on Valentine's Day, there was a rehearsal for the Oscars to be held on March 7th at the Kodak Theatre and it would be loaded with celebrities. He could start there. If nothing else, it would remove the boredom he felt and recharge his love battery, perhaps.
He took off at supersonic speed and just as he was fluttering his wings to land, he spotted Brad Pitt of all people.
"Perfect," he said. "What at the odds of this? Just the man I want to shoot with one of my golden love arrows."
He watched Brad holding the limousine door open for his wife, famed actress and humanitarian, Angelina Jolie. Then, when he saw Brad looking over and watching Jennifer Aniston alighting from out of her limousine, he had an inspired idea.
