The Return of Dark Angel

Wow. Talk about Freudian slip. When I first typed the title of this post, my finger pressed the "R" key instead of the "L" key. Dark Anger. That fits. Now, most of you don't know Dark Angel. Forget about Jessica Alba's T.V. character, this Dark Angel has been around before Ms. Alba was even a zygote. She's a representation of my most basest, meanest animal nature, and she made her first Internet appearance about twelve years ago on a wrestling fan web site. (Long story, don't ask.) She has been, for the most part, kept under lock and key through my trust that God's way is the right way, even if I don't always agree with His timing. She lays low and feeds a continuous stream of invalidation of my physical being, which is very vulnerable to criticism. She loves that. What does she look like? Picture an eight feet tall very shapely and muscular female shadow being, dressed in a blood red skin tight outfit a la Marvel Comics with blazing yellow eyes and a long, curling mane of flames. Not flaming red hair. Fire-red flames. Dark Angel is attended by a cadre of not-so-merry-guys, Demented, Debauch, Disgusting and Despair, otherwise known as the Doo Doo Squad. Use your imagination.

There is her counterpart, thank goodness. It's Angelfly, and she looks just like her name. An angel. However, she's not much fun, in my opinion. She always takes the correct, most virtuous road, even if it is stormy and filled with pitfalls and snares. She never gives up, never loses faith in God, mankind, and the universe. Dark Angel hates her, and takes great delight in her torture. Inevitably, their fates are tied, and Angelfly usually triumphs over all obstacles, due to her unchanging faith in all things good. So Dark Angel is forced to do her dirty work from her subterranean realm, DarkHaven. Recent events in my life have combined to create the most profitable emergence of the Dark One. Watch out. Consider yourself warned.

As aside: You might wonder why a forty something year old woman is writing about crazy, comic book-like characters. The short answer is that the author, if you haven't noticed by now, is a bit off. More than a bit off. The longer answer is that either I write something that personally amuses me to keep what little I have of my sanity, or I start screaming. I'm doing recovery, one day at a time, and it's f@#&^*$ hard right now.

I apologize to my Baha'i friends for the dip down into my lower nature, but this is where I am right at the moment. I'm restless, irritable and discontented, and worse than that, ready to go into battle mode because a situation of a very personal nature* has activated the long dormant volcano of anger inside of me. Instead of doing what my baser instincts tell me to do (you really DON'T want to know), I'm writing this trite little morality play. This is an amusing distraction, and it keeps my mind away from my Dad's giant Hershey bars and the sour cream and Cheddar potato chips in the kitchen. Most of the time I repeat over and over, "Thank you God, it's not my food." Tonight, I'm chanting "God is sufficient unto me. He verily is the All-Sufficing. In Him, let the trusting trust." That's what's getting me through this, along with dozens of phone calls to other recovering friends. I'm not alone in this dark night of the soul, one of way too many that I've had in life. But this time, I 'm smiling. In spite of how crappy I feel, I know life is good. God is good. And I'm in the midst of a miracle. So. On with the fun.


The scene: Last night. Angela wearily turns on her computer to check her email. To her surprise, there is a very long, disturbing message from him who will be forever unnamed. She reads it twice, feeling the rage beginning to churn and swell inside. The tide of anger becomes so immense that it consumes her, and she turns away from the computer. Dark Angel rides this growing tide of violent feelings, reveling in the fact that Angela has been (temporarily) freed at last from Angelfly's love-and-light influence.

Dark Angel: Yes! That's it; yes! Time to play! Time to unleash mayhem and destruction! Where are you, you cretinous sons-of-a-maggot-ridden-dog-carcass! Move your worthless hides; we have work to do!

Doo-Doo Squad enters DarkHaven.


Demented: My queen, my love, my...(yelps as the Dark One hits him with a fireball.)

Dark Angel: Never forget your station, you pitiless cur! For the rest of you: observe while your cohort tries to remember his manners.

They all look through the wide screen that looks out of the Dark Angel's hellishly barren world into Angela's space.

Disgusting: What's she doing?

Dark Angel: She's reading an email from "him".

DooDoo Squad (in unison): Oooo, "him"!

Dark Angel: Silence, miscreants! (She grins maliciously as she stares up at the increasingly agitated Angela.

Dark Angel grabs a boom microphone that hangs from the ceiling and turns it on.

Dark Angel (whispering malevolently): He's a bastard...a barking mad Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde...tell him to f*** off! Call your auntie down in Florida and ask her to put a voodoo curse on him!

The DooDoo Squad cheers and high fives each other.

Angela gets up and begins pacing around, punching her right fist into her left palm. She's muttering a very long string of profane epithets.

Dark Angel: That's it..think about that time you beat up that boy for pushing your sister! Remember how you slugged him hard in his soft, Play-doh stomach, and when he fell, you sat on his chest and pounded his face! Remember how good it felt, all that adrenaline coursing through your body! You can do it again, you know...it would be sooooo easy....

Debauch: I love that woman! She's evil incarnate!

Dark Angel: Yes...feel that rage! Feed it; make it bigger!

Suddenly, a bright light appears, blinding DA and the DooDoo Squad.

DooDoo Squad (shielding their eyes): Noooooo!

Dark Angel: Accursed wench! (Runs over and punches Disgusting in the face.) Despair, I thought you locked Angelfly in the dungeon! (Shoots a large fireball at Despair, who is fried crispy.)

Disgusting (wailing): Mistress, I did nothing!

Despair: Spare me, I only loosened the rope because she kept sobbing....

Dark Angel: Shut up, you filthy vermin! Debauch, get up there and drag her down into the dungeon before....

There's another flash of light, even brighter than the first. Even Dark Angel shrieks in agony. She and the DooDoo Squad fall violently to the ground, convulsing in excruciating pain.

Digusting: Mistress, help us! It hurts!

Blindly, the Dark One shoots out a fireball that slams into all members of the DooDoo squad. They begin to shriek loudly.

Debauch: Oh beautiful and shapely one, please end our pain!

Dark Angel shoots an even bigger fireball, which emits a high-pitched scream as it slamd into the DooDoo Squad huddling together in terror. Their shrieks sound like a group of pubescent girls a Justin Timberlake concert.

Dark Angel: Silence, you miserable excuses for servants! You'll speak when spoken to! (Gazes at Angelfly from her view screen while chuckling to herself.) You won this round, goody-two shoes. One day, Angelfly. One day you will be effectively neutered. Then your beloved Angela will be MY most precious pet, to do as I will to her.

Demented (yelling over the flames) : But Mistress, what did we do wrong?

Dark Angel: You exist, and that's enough! (Gazes out of the large observation window.) One day, Angela. One day you will be serving ME, not that half-wit, goody-two shoes Angelfly. (Stares some more. ) You're in recovery now, and that gives me ample ways to destroy you. You WILL want chocolate one day!

With that, DarkAngel lets loose a terrifying, sonic-boom sounding laugh as the Doo-Doo Squad cringes and writhes in the flames.

*Trato de no desanimarte pero tu tambien, no lo haces facil. Es dificil el quere o amar a alguien que se lastima solo. No quiero desanimarte porque estaria perdiendo valiosa parte de mi energia, que me devilitaria mi alma. Estoy dispuesta a amar aunque en estos momentos, me es muy dificultoso.









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