I met my guardian angel recently and they’re not exactly what I expected, anytime someone thinks of an ‘angel’ grace comes to mind; along with beauty, well, he was none of these things. For the record I never believed in the spiritual world nor did I even fathom the idea that each one of us was assigned some care giver, the mere thought always made me chuckle because through out my life I’ve had the worst luck. My friends think of me as the black sheep in the literal sense, if something bad could happen then it would happen to me, I don’t know how many times I’ve heard some silly statistic about 1 in 5 or 1 of 3; immediately understanding I would be that one. Hit by a car? Sure several times, been mugged before? Almost on a weekly basis, hell I’m the guy that constantly finds a hair in their meals and for the most part I accepted the reality of my fate, I was a person not like others. I’m even still single because 1 in 4 men will never get married, at this point I’m tired of hearing about ratios and statistics, it’s almost like learning the future whenever a new study is announced. So I spend most of my time at my local pub drinking my sorrows away; not that I really had any, but I didn’t have much going on and understanding that 1 in 10 men will develop liver disease I figured why not enjoy my liver while I have it.
This is when I met Roger, he was sitting at the bar with his head hunched down into his arms; he appeared to be sleeping as the perspiring mug of beer stood tall next to him. I’ve seen him before, he usually was drunk whenever I would arrive to the pub and for the most part there was nothing special about him, that’s to say I really never noticed him. Occasionally I would see him lift his head, reaching for his mug as he would swiftly chug down whatever remaining remnants of beer was left and then signal to the bartender for another only to retreat his face back into the comfort of his folded arms. This particular day the bar was a bit more crowded than normal apparently there was some game on, I didn’t really care for sports so I had no desire to sit close to the big screen, because of this the one spot I found at the bar was next to Roger. As usual his face was wedged into his folded arms, he seemed to be passed out; I could hear the dreadful sounds of him wheezing out for air escaping his clenched posture. I…
