Jezreel, a guardian angel with zero regard for minding his own business, flew across the caf to the front of the lunch line. There, he spotted a fellow angel.   

“Kemuel, what are you doing?” Jezreel gasped. 

Kemuel, who was sitting on the counter with his arms folded, snapped, “I’m watching my human, Jezreel.” 

“No, you aren’t!” Jezreel said, “Philomena got the green beans!” 

Kemuel stared at Jezreel in puzzlement. 

Jezreel huffed. “The green beans accidentally came in contact with the peanut brittle! Philomena is allergic to peanuts! Do you want your human to die? Stop her!” 

Kemuel shrugged. “Go watch your own human.” 

“She’s fine,” Jezreel said. Jezreel had successfully protected his human, Mary, from numerous occasions of sin. He had prevented her from making friends (gossip), conversing with men (lust), or dropping any of her eight classes (idle hands). Convinced that his human was the most virtuous woman in the caf, he spent her lonely lunchtime lecturing other angels.  

“Philomena. Is. Fine.” Kemuel repeated. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Jezreel asked, “Don’t you see everyone else in this cafeteria diligently striving to guard their charges?” 

On cue, a girl with a plate full of desserts passed by, followed by an angel begging, “Say sorry to your roommate for drinking all her soda. She’s right there! Give her your peanut brittle.” The girl sat down. Her angel dropped to his knees, begging, “If you guys make up, you can watch ‘Gilmore Girls’ together like you used to! I won’t even make you feel guilty the entire time. ‘GILMORE GIRLS’!” 

The girl pulled out her phone, turned on “Gilmore Girls,” and propped it up against the salt shakers.  

The angel sobbed. “That’s not what I meant!” 

“See!” Jezreel said, turning back to Kemuel. “AH! Where did your human go?” 

“She’s getting orange juice,” Kemuel said, unfazed. 

“Right next to the coffee station?” Jezreel said, “She is in danger of second-degree burns!” As Jezreel said this, he noticed something else. “Zerachiel!” he shouted at another angel, “Your human is stealing extra sugar packets! YOUR HUMAN IS A THIEF, ZERACHIEL!” 

As Jezreel and Zerachiel argued over his human’s intentions for the sugar packets, Philomena headed towards the dessert station. Still with folded arms and a pouty face, Kemuel followed.  

As Philomena finished giving herself a gluttonous second scoop of ice cream, unhindered by any naggings of conscience or subconscious hints of a diabetic future, Jezreel returned with his feathers ruffled. 

“Why won’t you stop Philomena from eating the green beans?” Jezreel said, glowing with rage. 

Kemuel sighed. “It’s just … she hasn’t said the Guardian Angel prayer. She used to pray it every night, and I haven’t heard it once since she got dropped off at school.” 

“Honestly, Kemuel,” Jezreel said, puffing his wings up in preparation for a condescending speech, “Do you think I would have Mary on track to join a convent if I listened to her prayers? It’s the opposite! She prays to St. Anthony for a husband every night, and I just keep sabotaging every meaningful relationship she has ever had. No man would look twice at my Mary!” 

“Hmm,” Kemuel said, squinting past Jezreel. 

“What?” Jezreel said. 

“Sorry,” Kemuel said, “it’s just that, out of the hundreds of Marys at this school, I could have sworn your Mary is the one being handed a rose bouquet made of napkins by that strapping lad who wants twelve kids.” 

“What?” Jezreel repeated. He fled across the caf, shouting, “Mary, NOOOO!”  

Kemuel waited one more moment, then as the lunch lady said, “That’s the last of the green beans,” he stuck his foot out and tripped Philomena, sending her ice cream and the peanut-contaminated green beans flying all over the floor.