Raymond Chandler Writes the WB Blurb for Angel
||back to filk list|
"You might not have liked him, if you had known him. He was the kind who staggered, drunk, after the retreating shape of a blonde down a dark street. He isn't proud of who he was, or what he did. Actually, he's very, very sorry.
"Not sorry that the blonde was a demon and made a demon out of him. Frankly, she was a looker, and there was nothing he could have done to stop her. It's the century and change of murderous glee that gets him down, when he thinks about it. And he's got plenty of time to think about it.
"You kill that many people, you make enemies. If you're smart, you avoid the people who can hurt you back. Nobody's ever accused Angel of being smart. He got himself hit with a curse, a conscience, and ever since he's been falling all over himself to prove he's a right guy. The kind of guy you'd want on your side.
"He's been on this earth a quarter-millennium. He's older than the Scotch he drinks. And for the first time since he felt the teeth at his neck, he's got friends. Real friends, the kind that can help him out in a jam. The kind you depend on, the kind you put yourself in danger to protect.
"Man. Is he ever doomed."
"And I shrug the trench coat up around my ears, flick the cigarette into a handy puddle, and walk away down the rain-slick street, chuckling sardonically."
Originally posted in Angel 3: The Schmuck Bait Arms (#2279), WX, September 9, 2001.
|back to filk list|