When Senator Mark Kirk, returning to work a year after his near-fatal stroke, told colleagues that when he was in a coma angels with New York accents appeared to him it naturally got me to thinking.  Do angels really have New York accents?  So using my contacts on the street I arranged for a meeting with an angel who graciously agreed to sit down to an interview with me.

MI:  Welcome..um…..what should I call you?

Angel:  Yo, just call me Vinnie for now.

MI:  So you do have New York accents. Senator Kirk was right.

Angel:  Most of us are from Noo Yawk.  A few are from Bahstahn.  But we don’t talk about ‘dem.  Dey are a lower order of angels.

MI:  So what does an angel do?

Angel:  We got different jobs, you know.  Me?  I’m a guardian angel, capish?

MI:  Really?  Whose guardian angel are you?

Angel:  Yours, you stronz!

MI: Now there’s no need to resort to name calling.

Angel:  What’dya expect. You ain’t making it easy.  I toin my back one second and ba-da-bing ba-da-boom you’se in an alleyway with the Swedish Olympic basketball team.

MI:  I’m a reporter. I wanted to ask them about their ball handling skills.  It’s a legitimate question. 

Angel:  I suppose.  Excuse me I have to go put some quarters in da meter.

[He goes and puts four quarters in the meter.]

Angel:  That should buy me an hour.

MI:  Wow. Can’t you just wave your wings or something and extend the time on the meter?

Angel:  Da big man, Michael da Archangel, wants us to keep a low profile.  For insurance purposes.

MI:  I see.  Tell me – 

Angel:  Excuse me.  See dat  Is he gonna tow my freaking car away?  I gotta take care of dis.

[The angel walks over to the man in the tow truck.]

Angel:  Don’t tow my freaking car away!

[He turns the tow truck driver into a fish]

Angel:  Alright I’m back.

MI:  Nice way to keep a low profile.

Angel:  That’s my freaking parking spot, man!

MI:  Okay.  Okay.  Just one last question.  As my guardian angel do you have any advice for me?

Angel:  Stay away from Olivia Wilde, capish.  Da broad’s dangerous.

[Pause]

MI:  What did just say?

Angel:  Stay away from da Wilde broad if ya knows what’s good for ya.

MI:  That’s what I thought you said.

[He punches the guardian angel in the nose]

MI:  You say anything bad about her again and we’re going to have trouble!

Angel: But she’s bad news.  I’m just saying……

[Manhattan Infidel lunges at the angel and they grapple and fall to the ground.  Manhattan Infidel continues punching him]

Angel: Help!  Help!  Police!

Policeman:  What seems to be the problem here?

Angel:  This man is beating me up!

Policeman:  Is he smoking?

Angel:  No.

Policeman:  Is he drinking a big gulp?

Angel:  No.

Policeman:  Then this doesn’t concern the NYPD.

Angel:  But he’s beating me up!! 

Policeman:  What did I just tell you punk?

[The policeman proceeds to beat the angel with his club]

Policeman:  I though I had all you guinea hoods locked up.   You, what’s your name?

MI:  Manhattan Infidel.

Policeman:  Manhattan Infidel, take a hold of him.  Stand him up.  Stand him up straight.

[He punches the angel and breaks his jaw]

MI:  Nice uppercut.

Policeman:  Freaking punk!

Note:  Manhattan Infidel would like to state that his encounter with his guardian angel in no way is a reflection upon all angels, many of whom are hard-working, law-abiding citizens.  Just don’t say nothing bad about Olivia Wilde.  Punk.

(457)