For a long time now, I've been concerned that my benevolent maker is wildly indifferent to me personally. Sometimes bad things happen to me even though I'm a good person, I have yet to win the lottery, and the fundamental logic that underlies all of creation breaks down at random in my presence, turning my world into a Kafka-esque nightmare that transcends any concept of horror I previously held, only ceasing when the Creator's eye accidentally sweeps over the travesty of my existence. However, through the power of capitalism I have now purchased my own guardian angel. While I've yet to win the lottery and am not yet proof to the cruel vagaries of fortune, my angel's righteous sword now stands between me and the yawning abyss of chaos. Also, he's magnetic!
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Guest from Maine
Title:Angel (Raphael? Michael?)
For those weak in faith, there's comfort in seeing your guardian angel, even if he's just hanging around on the door of your fridge. Of course, he's left home without his sword, which might make it tough to drive off the demonic puppet armed with a pitchfork.
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