"You dead yet, Ma?" Kenny Martin took a deep breath. Ready or not. He jabbed his finger into her left shoulder. Her upper body slid to the right, collapsing over the arm of her olive green rocker-recliner. Kenny brushed a lank strand of dirt-colored brown hair out of his face and checked the clock again.

"You really need to hurry, Ma. 'Cause I need me a guardian angel by 10 a.m., and you still gotta get up there, meet God, get your angel's wings and then get back here."

She sure looked dead. Her body was limp, her skin all pasty and cold, her face slack and open-mouthed. But you never could tell with her. She could be playing dead, waiting for him to leave. Yeah, that'd be just like her, fake being dead, get his hopes all up, and then be a no-show as his guardian angel, leaving him high and dry in the middle of a crisis. She'd probably laugh her ass off later about it.

Naw, she was dead all right--wasn't she? He supposed he could check her pulse and find out for sure. But if she woke up while he was holding her limp, leathery wrist, well, she'd be liable to think it an invite to give him a tooth-jarring smack upside the head.

If she wasn't dead yet, he was going to have to finish the job--and with something faster than pills in her vodka this time.

The end table was crowded with crap. He threw a stack of newspapers on the floor, brushed aside used Kleenexes and a handful of toothpicks with chewed-ends. Searched through empty glasses, an almost-gone gallon of vodka, a half-eaten bowl of canned spaghetti--nothing he could use there.

Kenny loped into his mother's bedroom and flicked on the light. The bed was the only neat thing in the house. The bedspread was drawn up and wrinkle-free, and a set of throw pillows made it almost look like something out of a magazine. Nickels, her black & white cat, half raised its head from the end of the bed and favored him with a raspy "Maoooo."

"Shut up, you effing cat," he answered. He rummaged through the stuff crowded on the dresser--assorted bottles of cheap perfume, costume jewelry, makeup, bobby pins, and store receipts--until he found what he was looking for.

Hurrying back to the living room, he jabbed the straight pin into his mother's arm. She didn't flinch, didn't budge. No reaction at all. But blood trickled sluggishly from the wound. Must not be quite dead yet. Shit.

"Geez, Ma! How long can it take ya to die? I don't got time for this, not with 'Zilla after me. Shit, I shoulda just smothered ya. But no, I had to take it easy on you and use pills. This is what I get for trying to be a good son? Crap." He kicked her rocker-recliner, and her almost-dead body lurched, one arm flopping at an odd angle across her chest.

The noise surprised Nickels, who was slinking through the room. The cat hissed and jumped away. Kenny stomped after him. "Shut up!" He aimed his boot for the cat's ass, but Nickels was quick for his age and scooted out of the way, catching on his hip only a brush of Kenny's not-so-well-placed kick.

"Ma?" Kenny whirled around. His mother stood in front of her rocker-recliner, arms akimbo and a disgusted expression on her face. He took a step back, making sure he was out of her reach.

"Nothing. Ma, I swear. It was an accident. I was just gonna help you sleep a little bit."

"How'd you know how many--. Wait a minute. You look funny." Her body looked kind of translucent. Yeah, he could see through her--see her real body still slumped over in the chair. "Hey! It worked! You're dead and now you're my guardian angel." Overjoyed his plan had worked, he raised his hand for a high-five.

She glanced at his hand and then gave him the evil-eye stare that usually made him want to go hide in his room. "What's wrong, Kenny? Didn't have the guts to do me in fair and square--give me a chance to fight back or nothin'?"

His hand dropped back to his side. "Well, drunk as you was, I doubt you coulda anyway." He raised his chin and met her stare. She was dead. She couldn't hurt him now--couldn't try to whip the wickedness outta him anymore.

"I wasn't drunk--just a little tipsy." She said with a sniff.

Kenny stood his ground. "You're gonna help me now," he said. "Something you haven't done your whole life. You're my guardian angel."

She laughed. "I don't know what's got into you Kenny. What makes you think I'd want to be your guardian angel?"

"I never said you wanted to be, did I?" he replied, managing to hold his knee-jerk ducking reaction to just a slight tic.

She answered him with a disgusted snort. Nickels came out of hiding and sniffed at her dead body's feet, then walked around her ephemeral body, meowing. Stupid, effing cat. "God told you what to do, right? To come back and protect me from danger?"

"I ain't seen God." Then she frowned, as if trying to remember something. "I don't think," she added in a whisper.

"Well, it don't matter, Ma. See, I thought and thought about it for a long time. You don't think I'd run off and do something crazy like this without thinking it through first, do ya?"

She plopped down in her rocker-recliner, sort of fusing into her dead body, so she looked like a double-image of herself.

"Look Ma. I didn't wanna have to tell you, but I got myself in a bit of trouble. I owe some money, and if they don't get it today, well, let's just say I'll be in your situation by tonight."

"You mean killed by someone who's supposed to love you?"

"Come on, Ma. I didn't have no choice. 'Zilla Gomez is gonna cut my throat if I don't get him twenty thous."

"Twenty thousand dollars?" His mother's voice rose higher with each word. "KennyGMartin what were you thinking?"

"Well, I was thinking I was going to hit the jackpot soon and then pay him back. But don't worry--I got it all figured out." Kenny rocked back and forth on his heels. "I'm gonna rob a bank. You'll help me escape with your guardian angel powers. I'll pay 'Zilla back and it'll all be fine."

His mother's expression had gone from disgust to outrage while he talked; now it changed to shock.

"I know, I know," he told her. "I was surprised myself when I first thought of it. But remember Jared Nolgan in eighth grade? He won the spelling bee--and the trip to Washington, D.C. for Nationals a month after his mom died. And after he came back to school, me and Travis heard him tell his pimple-faced girlfriend that he knew he'd won 'cause his mom had turned into an angel and whispered the right letters in his ear."

"And then Brian," Kenny continued. "After his dad died, things started going his way. He ended up going to cop school, even though he'd gotten in all that trouble in high school. And he met that rich girl and now they live in that big house over by the golf course and he's a fancy-smancy detective. So see, it musta been that Brian's dad became an angel and steered good luck his way."

Kenny took a seat on the aging divan and a long slug out of his now-warm beer. It'd been a long night.

"Kenny, did it occur to you that neither one of those boys killed his mom or dad?"

"You don't think God will hold that against me, do ya?" Kenny jumped up and paced the small living area. "Ma, I went to church and prayed and everything. Confessed all my sins, the whole shenoodle. And I talked to the priest. And he said it was true, that angels really did exist, and that we all have one. 'Cept I knew I didn't. So I figured if I got me one, things would all work out." He went to the fridge to get another beer.

The beer was nice and cold and he drained half the bottle in a single gulp. Nickels curled up beside his mother's foot and hissed when Kenny passed by. Feeling magnanimous, he resisted the urge to kick the cat a second time.

"I doubt the priest would've said that if he'd known what you were planning," she said.

The fire was back in her eyes, and she looked like she was working her way into a good one. No matter. What could she do to him now? "Well, Ma, you coulda been nice and got yourself cancer or a heart attack or something, and then I wouldn't been forced into this."

"Kenny, you are a dumb shit. You know that? A dumb shit. You think you can murder me, and then expect me to be your guardian angel and help you rob a bank?"

"But Ma, here you are. Ain't ya? So I guess it did work." He shook his head and chuckled.

Her face turned all red like she was gonna have a stroke. A little late, he thought. Then her eyes narrowed and she turned all calm. That made him a little nervous, but he shrugged it off.

The clock bonged the half hour. It was three a.m. already? "I'm gonna take a nap. You do, uh, whatever it is angels do. Then we gotta leave here at 10 a.m. for the bank."

Kenny finished off his beer. Then he closed his eyes and was asleep in no time at all.

Kenny woke up to a streak of sunlight streaming in his eyes. It took him a moment to let go of his dream--he'd been lying in the sun on a beach, a babe on either side and a bucket of beer beside him. Not much longer, and that's exactly where he'd be.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Nine-thirty. Not much time. Ma's body looked much the same as it had the night before, maybe a little more stiff, though. There wasn't a sign of her angel-body though. Maybe she was up talking to God.

Kenny went into the bathroom and rubbed some cold water over his face and then took a leak. He pulled on a lightweight jacket, found a baseball cap and pulled it low over his eyes. He checked himself out in the mirror. Yep, looking good.

Walking back to the kitchen, he grinned at his mother's body. "Hey Ma, you about ready?" He opened the fridge, grabbed a half-gallon of milk, looked around for his ma first and then took a long chug straight from the carton.

Nickels curled around his legs, meowing for a share of the milk. He aimed another kick at the cat, but Nickels scooted away. "Effing cat!"

His guardian angel mother sat at the kitchen table, one leg crossed over the other, jiggling her foot up and down. "I didn't say the F-word, Ma. I said Effing! That ain't the F-word."

"Crap. I'm leaving. You meet me at the bank, k?"

She rolled her eyes. "I wouldn't miss it for the world, son."

He pulled the pistol from his pants pocket and made sure it was fully loaded, then stuck it in his jacket pocket, positioning it so it was pointed to the front. Then he sat down at the table with a piece of paper and wrote three lines.

"Ma, when I get done, I'll call the cops and report your accidental death, k? And maybe I'll tell them that you been a little sad lately. Maybe you even did it on purpose." He snickered at his angel-mother's look of outrage and closed the door behind him.

The bank teller had big brown eyes and really big boobs. She smiled until he handed her the note, and then she got a look of fear in her eyes that excited him even more than her cleavage. "Don't hit the alarm," he warned her in a soft voice while he smiled at the teller two stations on the right. He curled his finger around the gun's trigger. "Just smile and act natural."

"Huh?" He looked up from her cleavage. Her lower lip was trembling.

"Oh." He thought for a second. "Don't ya have a bag or something?"

She unlocked her drawer and pulled out a bank bag stamped with the bank's name. "Will this do?"

"Sure." She pulled out a fat roll of 20's and stuffed it in the bag. Kenny glanced around to see if anyone had noticed anything. The supervisor at the back of the room was on the phone, looking idly around while she talked. "Hurry up," he said. He wondered where his ma was. He had a moment's panic she wouldn't show up to help him. "No, she'll be here," he said.

"My ma. Any second now." The supervisor hung up the phone and glanced over. "Hurry up," he snarled at the teller.

The girl stuffed more bundles of bills into the bag. The supervisor narrowed her eyes and rose from her chair. There was only one other customer in the bank and the security guard was half asleep in a chair near the front entrance.

The supervisor walked up behind his teller. "Is there a problem, Monica?" she asked. She had salt-and-pepper hair about the same length as his mother's. She even reminded him a little of his ma, with rolls of fat stretching her too-tight gray pants.

The supervisor's eyes widened. She raised her hands and backed away. "We'll do what you say, sir. No one needs to get hurt here." She smiled at him. But she didn't mean it. He could tell.

The supervisor stared at him. "I betcha that's just your finger poking in your pocket," she said in his mother's voice.

Kenny's finger jerked on the trigger. The supervisor barely had time to register surprise before a small hole appeared right between her eyes and her brains splattered out of the back of her head.

He hadn't meant to shoot her, but she'd sounded so much like his ma that it'd spooked him. Had her lips even moved? He swore her lips hadn't moved at all.

Big-boobs Monica screamed, the sound echoing around the high ceiling like the caterwauling of a banshee, and all hell broke loose.

The other teller and a secretary rushed to the fallen supervisor. Kenny backed away. The guard, an old guy with white hair and a pot belly that'd had more than a good share of beer, got up from his chair and drew his gun. Kenny pointed his gun at the guard's face. "Where are ya, Ma?" he hollered.

The guard looked around, searching for Kenny's supposed accomplice. His gun wavered.

"Put it down, Pops, or I'll shoot you. And then pretty little Monica over there will be next." Kenny back-stepped toward the bank's rear entrance. The guard set his gun down on the chair and raised both hands in the air.

"Ma?" No answer from his guardian angel. "Come on, Ma! Get your ass down here."

Kenny started to panic. He shoulda known not to count on his ma. Should have known she'd let him down again. "Bitch!" he yelled. Monica flinched. He would have laughed if he'd been in the mood.

He was about five feet from the door. He turned tail and ran, bursting out the door and down the street like the real Godzilla and Mothra both were on his heels.

A siren wailed louder as it came in his direction. Another joined in, the screeching rising in pitch. That bitch of a supervisor must have hit the alarm before she'd confronted him.

Kenny ducked into a hardware store. A clerk behind the counter was ringing up a customer's purchases. Kenny brandished his gun and said, "You never saw me, right?" Both clerk and customer raised their hands in the air and backed away.

Kenny ran down the aisle and out the back door. He tore across the loading dock and through the gate. The sirens wailed. Kenny headed down a narrow, dark alley, hoping to find a place to hide.

A scarred brown dumpster butted up against a building. He was about to grab the top to jump in when a black and white cat ran out from underneath. It brushed against his legs and yowled, then ran a few feet away. Funny, but it looked like Nickels. But that couldn't be--the cat was still at the apartment. The cat looked at him, its tail standing straight up, the end twitching in tiny convulsions. "Maoooo," it rasped.

It pranced a few feet further, then cocked its head at him. "Maoooo," it rasped again, almost like it wanted him to follow it.

"He came with me; now get your ass down here, Kenny."

"Ma?" She stood at the end of the alley, light surrounding her and streaming through her body. She looked almost like a real angel.

He trotted toward her. "Shit, you had me worried."

Nickels burst past him and turned to the right at the end of the alleyway. Kenny followed him. He stepped into an empty lot carpeted in knee-high dying weeds, faded by the heat of California's Central Valley sun to a washed-out shade of gold. The air had a crisp, almost wet feel to it, despite the heat of the coming noon. A hot breeze, like a sudden blast off the desert, ruffled his hair. Sirens wailed all around, coming closer and closer.

"Come on, Ma. Time to go." Nickels curled around his ankles. "Get away you effing cat."

"This way," his mother beckoned from the corner of the lot. "Leave Nickels alone."

He glanced down at the black and white cat, longing to kick the crap out of him one last time. The cop's siren wailed from somewhere close, maybe a block away. They'd be here any minute.

But what the hell. He had a guardian angel now, and he was safe. He aimed his gun at Nickels. "Bye bye, kitty."

"Put the gun down. Slowly." The male voice was calm but forceful. A cop edged around the corner of the building, his gun pointed straight at Kenny.

Kenny was so shocked he didn't know what to do at first. His gun swung around with him as he half-turned to face the cop.

"Ma? Time to get to saving me here." She'd moved over to where Nickels sat. The effing cat was nonchalantly licking his paw and swiping it over his face, just like he was on a Sunday picnic or lying at home on the bed.

"Put the gun down!" The cop's voice rose in timbre.

"Hey! I heard ya the first time. Shut up already! I'm talking to my ma."

The cop barked at him now in a loud, demanding voice. "Drop the gun!"

Kenny figured he had no other choice. Ah well, what difference was it? He'd already killed that bank supervisor, and anyhow, he had a guardian angel. He pointed his gun at the cop.

A loud retort echoed toward him and his body jerked. The gun fell from his hand and he fell, too. Straight backward, like all the air had gone out of him. He thought maybe it had, because it was hard to catch his breath.

The sun slanted into his eyes, creating a nimbus of light that sparkled out into a hundred tiny prisms. His ma's face came into his line of sight as she leaned over him. "Ma? Are you gonna save me now?"

Was that a touch of regret in her eyes? "But you're my guardian angel." He must be lying in a puddle or something--his back was all wet. The sunlight dimmed.

She shook her head. "I'm not your guardian angel. I'm here to watch over Nickels. Every cat needs a guardian angel, you know."

Now that was just too much. He had such a good plan. What the hell had gone wrong? His sight went really dark and then faded into complete black. He felt himself drawn back, like he was shrinking into a straw and being sucked down it. It grew warm and then hot--really, really hot.