This part was always the cherub's favorite, discovering  the right couple
alone on exactly the right park bench on a cool and perfect spring night.
The young lovers seemed barely out of their teens,  their faces fresh with the
wonderful promise of life's possibilities.  They might even have been
enjoying a first date judging the tentative (and charmingly awkward) manner of the
man's initial moves.  The youthful suitor managed to get his arm around the
woman's bare shoulder, although the spirit concealed in the bushes couldn't make out what words of love he was saying to her.  It didn't matter.  Clearly the
girl desired this man close, and once her young man made his move she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Beautiful . . . Just beautiful . . ."  the winged cherub muttered to himself,  drawing nearer the two, hoping to overhear some snippet of dialogue. The words that came just before a couple's first kiss still fascinated him and
the tiny saint wanted his timing to be just right.

"I feel like I've known you all my life,"  he heard the girl tell her beau.

"Maybe you have,"  her date answered, taking  her face into his hands.

"This feels right, doesn't it?"

He smiled.  "This feels more than right, Julie.  It feels perfect."

Valentine's Day was already two months past, but that made no difference. For young lovers every day was Valentine's Day, every moment magical. The kiss was coming right now, no doubting that.  Words like these required a kiss to
seal the magic of this enchanted instant for all eternity.  Steadying his hand Cupid readied his bow.

"I'm so happy we met, Danny.  So happy.  Who could have known?"

"Only God."

The young woman's lips parted, her eyes closed.  The man lightly touched her chin,  kissed her.  She responded with fervor,  leaning into the kiss and holding him close.  Lips pressed together, they fell into a tight embrace, their
heated passion making them oblivious to the winged seraph standing so near their bench, crossbow in hand.

"All the world loves a lover,"  the spirit whispered.

Cupid took careful aim for the woman's heart first, a difficult shot while she was being held so closely,  but timing was of the essence and the cherub was an excellent marksman.  The taut string of his bow twanged in the silence as
he let his arrow fly. 

He scored a direct hit. The woman clutched her chest,  too startled to say anything. But that reaction turned quickly to shock when she discovered the blood spurting in thick bursts from the arrow embedded in her heart.  It spilled
into her hands and she held the palms  before her eyes as if inspecting the sudden horror of the moment.

Spattered with his lady's grue her lover's mouth fell open.

"What the--!!"

The young man hadn't completed his sentence when the second arrow struck him in the eye.  His skull split,  the eye exploding in his head and dripping down his cheek like a runny egg.

Cupid knew he couldn't stay behind to watch the chaotic scene he had created.  He would have to settle for reading about it in tomorrow's headlines, maybe catching the story on the t.v. over coffee and cigarettes.  Right now he
would run like the wind because paper wings served no purpose whenever he needed to sprint along one of the park's paths, and running with a crossbow made escape especially tricky.  Fortunately, a cherub was nimble  and he had always managed to pull off his getaway without a problem.

Thirty seconds from the scene a nearby jogger passing him did a double take that stopped the runner dead in his tracks,  but Cupid never broke his stride.

The jogger turned and gaped at the lone figure darting along the path in nothing but his underwear. No doubt when the guy  resumed his trot he would discover the two bodies that lay just beyond the bend slouched over the park bench. 
But by that time the spry little archer would be back in his jeep and headed for the Interstate.

The thrill of this moment was worth the risk.  Christ,  he always felt so wonderful afterwards.

That's what love really was all about, wasn't it?  That wonderful rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins felt better than any drug.  Love was such a  glorious feeling.

Almost as glorious as seeing all that blood . . .