26 Fics in 26 Minutes

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A story for a song by a band starting with every letter of the alphabet. Ranging from angst to fluff to humour to porn to general whimsy. Encompassing Boosh, RPS, Nathan Barley, Robots in Disguise, and Asylum, and probably a few other things too.

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Length: words

Fantastic Plastic Machine – There Must Be An Angel

Contents

Fantastic Plastic Machine – There Must Be An Angel

It was a Thursday when he found him. The glint of sunlight on the arrowhead gave him away, sitting perched there on top of the shower rail, the fat bastard. Nude and slippery, Vince took no time in grabbing him round his pudgy little neck and hurling him against the wall, with a wet thud like a pat of butter dropped on cobbles. The fat little angel slid slowly to the ground with a moan, and Vince hurried over, putting one foot on top of him to hold him down. He wrapped a towel around his middle hastily.

“Mind telling me what you’re doing in my bathroom?” he asked him.

The only response was a tiny ‘urk’, so he lifted his foot slightly, only slightly, and asked him again.

“Orders… from above… let me go, human!” the angel squeaked.

“Orders? What orders? Who are you?”

“Cupid!”

Vince took his foot off him immediately, wiping it on the carpet hastily. “No you’re not,” he said doubtfully. “You’re just some naked fat midget with a bow and arrow. Watching me in the shower.”

Cupid got to his feet, rubbing at his neck and glaring at Vince. He turned to show him the quiver strapped across his back (along with a wide expanse of bare arse). ‘Cupid’ was written on it in red sparkly letters, and each arrow had a heart at the end.

“Well, what are you doing here then? Perv,” Vince muttered, tucking his towel around himself a little better and watching Cupid with suspicion.

“Oh, I wonder. What could I possibly be doing here?” Cupid pulled out one of his arrows and set it to his bow, squinting down the length at Vince’s chest. “Now, hold still.”

“Hey!” Vince smacked the arrow away, and Cupid let it go accidentally, firing it into the mirror (which was already in love with Vince, luckily). “None of that!”

“These aren’t cheap, you know!” Cupid grumbled, pulling out another arrow.

Vince reached down and snatched his bow away, holding it out of his reach. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m making you fall in love, what d’ya think?” said Cupid, dancing up and down trying to reach his weapon.

“What, with who? Why?”

Cupid pulled out one of those electronic personal organisers from his quiver, and tapped away. “Dixon Bainbridge, says here.”

Vince just gaped. “No way.”

Cupid held up the screen for Vince to read, and as he leaned down, made a grab for his bow. Vince held it too high for him, rubbing his chin with the other hand. “Well, I’m not having that. I’m not going to wander round the zoo after Bainbridge, sending him love letters and writing him poetry. I can’t even spell.”

“Orders is orders,” Cupid said, sticking his tongue out. “You can’t stop me forever. I’ll get you.”

“Yeah? What if I snap this in half, then?”

“Don’t do that!” Cupid yelled, eyes wide as Vince held the bow over one knee. “Please! I can’t afford it, my wife, she’ll go spare… the bank’s already been on at us…”

Vince watched him as he started blubbering. “Promise you’ll leave me alone then.”

“I can’t do that!” Cupid wailed. “They check up on me, I’ll lose my job!”

Vince sighed, twanging the string of Cupid’s bow vaguely and biting his lip. “Well, what can you do?”

Cupid scratched his bald little head. “I… I dunno. I have to put a spell on you, they’ll know otherwise.”

“Does it have to be Bainbridge?”

Cupid’s eyes lit up. “Wait, yeah! I could say… hmmm. A ricochet shot, I was aiming for this guy Bainbridge but I hit someone else instead, freak accident. They won’t like it, but it’s better than…” He trailed off, his eyes on his bow in Vince’s hands. “Who would you rather?”

Vince grinned slowly, handing Cupid back his bow. “Well,” he said. “There is this one guy.”