The Bearer Bonds sat on the table in front of me, apparently oblivious to the moral problems they were causing me. I looked over every inch of the envelope again, inside and out. Like the empty fridge you return to over and over, I knew there was nothing else in there no matter how many times I looked. I also knew this money was definitely not mine, even if I really needed it.
There was a small cough from behind my left ear, and a voice that sounded almost exactly nothing like a bored version of mine said, “If I were you buddy, I would think about considering if you want to cash them in yourself.”
I lent sideways slowly and tried to look over my shoulder, cold panic in my stomach at what manner of murderer I was about to see. Instead I saw a 6 inch high figure in a grey robe, that looked a lot more like me than it sounded. Disturbingly like me.
“What. The Actual. Fuck.” I said to presumably my own fractured mind.
The figure scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “Moral advice? Angel on your shoulder, all that jazz. Apparently, you are in a bit of a quandary, and them upstairs decided you needed a bit of the old Devils Advocate, God’s Barrister schtick.”
“Uh huh. And what angels and demons all look like me do they? And where’s the other guy?”
“We always look like the subject on account of our real countenance or visages being too divine or horrifying respectively for thine eyes, me old fruit. Oh, and there’s only me I’m afraid. Budget cuts. No funding for two heads, what with all the thinking people are doing in lockdown.”
“So, which are you then? Angel or Demon?”
“Both. I don’t deal in moral absolutes. Unlike the Sith.”
“The Sith? Are they demons?”
“No, no. Just a little pop culture reference to put you at your ease. It can be off putting dealing with a manifestation.” He hopped down from my shoulder, walked down my arm and stood on the table in front of me. “Anywho, let's got on with this decision, eh? What’s your take on it?”
“My take? I thought you were supposed to give me advice?”
The little grey me rubbed the bridge of its nose with a pained expression. “Not too quick on the uptake are we? I can see why you needed help. Without a sparring partner I’m in a more passive role. More like a life coach I guess. Ask you good questions and such. You can call me Tony Robbins.” He looked pleased with himself.
“So, which were you then, Tony?”
“What?”
“Well, budget cuts, OK. So unless there was an army of morally grey beings floating around waiting for this, I assume you are either a devil being nice, or an angel trying to break bad. So which was it?”
Tony looked at me quizzically. “You get to that idea, that quickly, but you can’t figure out if its right to steal money that was sent to you in error without help?”
“I’m going to guess Angel from the tone of how you said ‘steal’”
“Ehhh, sorry Hans, wrong guess. An Angel would have been kind, you dope.”
I threatened Tony with a flick. He dropped into a boxers stance. “Oh yeah, come and try it. I’m smite the shit out of you!”
“Why”, I asked, “don’t you just play the devil, if that’s who you really are. Who would know?”
“He’d know. He bloody omni’s his presence where it’s not wanted every chance he gets. And maybe there isn’t any work for people who can’t double hat. Maybe I don’t want to not be able to pay my rent, and have to live somewhere worse. And bear in mind I live in Hell, so worse than that is no picnic.”
“So”, I said.
“So” Tony replied.
“I guess you better ask me some questions then.”
