"She was putting it on her face, her arms, rubbing it on her belly. I couldn't take it."

Master Jabber and his golem were out for another evening stroll. The air was cool and dusky, filled with the noises of pedestrians enjoying the spring air. Rather than disturb the evening's peace, however, the laughter and footsteps seemed to sound out its depth.

"That's goddamn ridiculous. I have a demon friend of mine, drank some water from a fountain, not realizing it had been blessed by a priest. Went into apoplectic shock. His lips and innards swelled up like balloons. Even had to get his wings amputated, poor bastard."

"He survived?"

"Oh yeah, went back to the underworld, swore he'd never return. Lying devil. Saw him at a whorehouse the other day setting the whole place alight with his virulence, his new wings erect and throbbing."

"What were you doing at a whorehouse?"

"Living the dream my friend, living the dream."

Master Jabber stopped all at once and pointed to a shop before them. The sign read Joseph's Angel Wings. "You wanna grab some wings?"

"Hell yes," the golem said, stomping the ground in excitement.

Inside, they were greeted by a wing shop that looked like an unholy mix between a speakeasy and an old time boudoir. Velvet sofas, low tables, and large flickering candles were placed about the shop. Gilded mirrors, old paintings of naked winged angels, and green crystal lamps decorated the walls. At the far end was a large bar that held an assortment of hand-sized angel wings on gold trays under glass cases. Further off, a large gilded cage stood in a dark corner.

"Well Master Jabber!" the proprietor exclaimed. "Isn't this a surprise!"

"Joseph!" Jabber called out, hurrying over to shake the short angel's hands. "Joseph! When did you open shop here?"

"Been a few weeks, just moved over from Gersee Island." He wore a white dress shirt with black arm garters and a green visor cap. His wings were folded tight behind his back to keep from knocking anything off his counter. Noticing the golem he extended a hand to him as well. "Joseph. What's your name?"

"Don't have one. You can call me golem."

"Nice to meet you golem."

"It's a pleasure, Joseph."

"Well what can I get you boys?"

"I'll have some seraphim wings if you got em," Jabber said.

"You're in luck! I was just about to call a seraph down when you came in."

The golem smiled. "Fresh seraphim wings? Don't mind if I do."

"Coming right up! Here's some chocolate mints on the house. Why don't you grab a seat by the window?"

Master Jabber paid and then settled into a green velvet sofa chair near the shop window, sinking in a little too deeply. Golem sat on an armchair in front of their little round table.

"What's the matter?"

"It's just," Master Jabber, moved around, tried to sit up straight. "I'm kinda of getting swallowed up by this sofa here. I'm a foot lower than you."

The golem looked down at him with his stone eyes. "Yeah, I see that. Going to be a hard trying to enjoy those wings."

"I feel like a goddamn toddler at the adult's table." Master Jabber tried to sit straight backed to get some height but he was still a little too low to comfortably access the table. "Hey Joseph!"

"Yes, what is it?" Joseph said, coming over from behind the counter.

"This, uh, this sofa chair here, it's kind of sinking in."

"So sit up straight."

"I am sitting straight."

"No you're not. Keep your shoulders back and your spine erect like a string's pulling your head up to heaven."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

"You want me to keep my back straight the whole time I sit here?"

"Yeah, what's the problem? That's what everyone does. It's a sofa chair, that's what you do."

The golem sighed and interjected. "Let me give you a piece of advice, Joseph. No one likes a limp sofa. No one likes a limp anything. I've got a friend from my bridge group. Every time you shake his hand, he has no grip, it's like squeezing a dead fish, and I know for a fact he hasn't been with a woman in years. Limp as a worm. I can't stand that bastard."

"You want your wings or not?"

"Yeah, of course," Jabber said, scooting forward to try and balance on the stiffer edge of the sofa.

"Good. Coming right up."

A couple minutes later there was a terrific flash and rush of angelic music. On the other side of the shop, a whirling ball of light, feathers, and eyes appeared inside the gilded cage. Before the seraph could realize what was happening, Joseph poked it with an electric cattle prod, knocking it out. Then he proceeded to clip its wings one by one, placing them smoking hot into a nearby tray. After he had removed a couple dozen, all that remained of the seraph was a hazy ball of light that was extremely difficult to focus on. Joseph sprayed holy water on it from a hand spray. It woke with a shudder, gave a squeal of embarrassment, and disappeared with a loud pop and a light smell that Master Jabber couldn't place his finger on but reminded him of rainbows.

Chuckling, Joseph returned with a steaming tray of seraph wings. "Always makes me laugh how dumb those seraphim are. I can't believe us lower orders used to fear them. I've been clipping that same seraph for weeks now and he still comes every time I call." He placed two wings on their table. "Anyways, enjoy. I'll be back with your banquet."

The "banquet" Joseph brought was two cups of water, a couple of bowls of lentils, and some dry loaves of flat bread. Some people enjoyed eating their wings at once to experience the heavenly version of their meal as it's brought to them. Master Jabber, however, always preferred seeing his earthly sustenance before the angel wings opened his eyes to the heavenly realm. The golem had already gobbled his seraph wing down and had immediately begun digging into his bowl of lentils, grinning at the succulence of it all. Master Jabber said a quick prayer of thanks to the Absent God and closed his eyes as he chewed his own wing. It had the taste and consistency of cotton candy, each bite flowing down his throat like soft lumps of light.

When he opened his eyes, the entire room had transformed. No longer did he sit in a dim earthly shop. Instead, he rested on a throne in a white marbled palace, golden light flowing in from the outside where brilliant beings walked among garden paths. White columns with gold trimming and gold flowered column heads supported the ceiling upon which a flowing painting of pink sunset clouds moved and curled in a manner that dazzled his eyes. Strands of heavenly music permeated the air as though a choir were singing softly from every direction.

Joy flooded Master Jabber's heart as he looked at the spread before him. These were not lentils but plates filled with walnut and orange rice, glistening lamb shanks, and golden goblets of clear white wine that smelled of fresh pressed grapes and divine love.

Not wanting to fall behind his golem, Master Jabber grabbed a lamb shank and took a happy bite, only to spit it out in disgust. It tasted of dried old bread. What was this? He tried the wine and shuddered. Warm water. The walnut and orange rice? Cold lentils. Looking around in shock, the heavenly vision of the palace flickered and darkened. A moment later he was back in Joseph's Angel Wing Shop, the familiar depression of earthly life settling back like mud in his chest.

Both the golem and Master Jabber stared at each other in mutual shock and disappointment. To be pulled away so quickly from that heavenly vision, back to Joseph's little wing shop, was jarring to the point of painful.

"What the hell was that?" Master Jabber yelled.

"Watch your language," Joseph said, coming up. "What the hells the matter with you?"

"Your wings, they're useless."

"What do you mean?"

"He means they don't have any juice," the golem said, pushing his plates away in disgust. "They only lasted a couple of minutes."

"No, no, they worked perfectly. Your sense of time moves differently in the Angelic Realms. You could've been there for hours but only thought it was a couple of minutes."

"If it was hours, then why didn't we touch any of the food?" Jabber pointed to the mostly full dishes of lentils and bread on the table.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? Maybe you were ogling naked angel maidens. It has nothing to do with me."

"I'm telling you the wings were weak."

"It's not right, Joseph," the golem said. "First the chair, now these wings. You know what you did? You over-plucked that seraph you keep calling to your shop, sucked all the blessings out of it. It has nothing left to give."

"Over-plucked?!" Joseph replied, his voice beginning to rise. "I've been in the wing business for two decades. I don't over-pluck. Those wings were ripe as virgin breasts."

"More like the shriveled raisins of an old maid," Master Jabber said, his voice rising as well. "Can we just get another pair? Or maybe some archangel feathers to make up for our trouble?"

"No. That's not happening. The wings I gave you were fresh, straight out of heaven."

"You're not giving us more?"

"No I'm not you stingy little devil."

"What did you call me?" Master Jabber growled.

"You heard me, now get the hell out of here."

"With pleasure," Master Jabber shouted. "This place is rancid."

"Good," Joseph responded.

"Come on golem . . . limpy cushions, half-baked wings, and a balding douche of an angel."

"Go on, get out of here."

"We will!" Master Jabber yelled as he and the golem made for the door.

"Blessed Sabbatical Jabber," Joseph called after them.

"Blessed Sabbatical Joseph," Master Jabber shouted back.