Angels and Seamen

Put your head on the pillow, young man, because Big Blogger is good, isn't he? Yes. That's right, he's a good boy. And Uncle Tippler is going to tell him a bedtime story. Even if you're a bit old for this shit.

Right, sit up. Under that blanket. With the bunny rabbits.

How old are you, again?

OK, not very long ago in a world-famous port not-too-far away, there lived an angel. Yes, a bona fide no-shit angel.

Yes, yes, wings and everything - but they were invisible. Because she didn't KNOW she was an angel. And that's the rules. They only grow when you know.

Anyway she was, sadly, fallen.

But I repeat, she didn't know she was an angel - let alone a fallen one. Even though her 'Earth' name was Angela - which you'd have thought would have been a bit of a clue - the fact is, my little snuggled-up BB, she had a non-angelic job. So how could she know?

Yes. Calm down. I know you don't want her to suffer. But I'm sorry little fella, non-angelic jobs DO exist.

Tragically, it was a job not unusual for a young girl at that time and in that location. Which was Amsterdam. And - by an accident that probably proves that there is no God, even if there are angels - she was a hooker.

And a fucking good one. If you'll pardon the phrase.

Stop fidgeting under that blanket.

Ok. The absolute angel Angela (a bit of a mouthful, you'll agree) had only one way to get back to Heaven - although she didn't know it - and that was to perform an act of selflessness for some passer-by. A young seaman as it turned out.

So there she stood, on a quiet night (possibly a Tuesday, Uncle Tip...um..the young man can't quite remember), lighting up the universe like a beautiful beacon. Albeit a beacon with most of its kit off.

She could have been a Siren, if those luscious temptors of Ulysses had ever been half so angelic. But no, she was no Siren, for she was a saviour - not a drowner - of men at sea...

And so it proved because then, as she stood in her open doorway, suffuced in a red glow, a young sailor fell before her.

"I am a drunken, but well-educated, sea-faring chap who has stared into the bottom of many, many, glasses and seen no future," he said. "Beyond your heavenly and, it must be said, almost naked breasts.

'My dear girl,' he went on, 'although I may be fresh out of Oxbridge with a degree in semantics and a formidable knowledge of 20th century philosophy, the fact remains that I've had enough and am about to throw myself into the canal. I have no regrets except one. I have never had a BJ.'

'So - any chance, love?' he added.

Angel Angela stared at him open-mouthed. This may or may not have been a smart move. "Well, I only do it for cash," she said.

"Bugger!" our seaman cried. "You are the most gorgeously low-topped and pert-breasted gel I have ever seen in my young but very, very tragic life. Surely, you are on the side of the angels? Um, did I mention "very tragic?"

"Anyway, it is even more of a tragedy that no woman has yet blown my energetically throbbing member. Especially someone with such puckered ruby lips as your very own. And who possesses an arse that any chap would single-handedly invade a country for.

"But, woe is me. Are you sure I didn't mention 'very tragic'? Anyway, the worst is, that mere minutes from my certain demise, in the canal over yonder, even a fool such as I can clearly see that that you are an angel with no equal - or wings, come to that."

"Trouble is, I'm fucking skint," added your Uncle Ti... er, the young chap.

So Big Blogger - will you keep that blanket still - what a situation to be in, eh? Fittest bird on the planet, virtually naked and an angel to boot. She's a hooker, he's minutes from death, and the lad has no dubloons... Ok, I see you get the gist. Now please stop fumbling around under that blanket.

But there was a surprise...

"What?" said our angel, "This cannot happen! I see your mind is made up but I will not let you die with your last wish unfulfilled. And - with your member clearly lacking somewhere to, erm, be a member of - tonight, and for one night only, I shall go down for free.

"So unzip and let's strip, big boy..."

And so she drew him in, his throbbing bell-end and knacksack all bathed in that erotic red light. She fell to her knees and a (very) short time later, it seemed that an even brighter light shone and two divinely shaven and dramatically lit arms gently hoisted our newly reborn child of Heaven to her forgotten home in the Place We All Hope To Go.

And thus was redeemed the Absolute Angel Angela, the one with a name which, like I said, was always going to involve a bit of a mouthful. She was back in Heaven, newly be-winged, wet lipped and wearing a pearl necklace at the Pearly gates.

'Hello Angela," said a smiling St Peter, who knew a cheap gag when he heard one, "I'd always heard that Red Balls give you wings..."

Anyway BB, that's the end. Good story, eh? Oy! You're supposed to be dozing off now. No, stop what you're doing under that blanket. No, seriously, grab that hanky, quick. Shit. Aw, man, just clean yourself up and get to sleep.

That's the last time I tell you a bedtime story. Big Blogger is bad!

Comments

[Angelalala]

*applause*

[Minky]

Angels and Se(a)men...
very nice one, Tippler.

[Clare]

Dammit, I can't deny that this is good.

[wags finger]

Naughty boy.

[greseeabsenia]

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