“Why are you doing push-ups?” Enoch asked.
“Son of a bitch hates it,” Chuy sneered. “All that slob wants to do it get drunk, eat candy bars, and pretend he likes girls.”
“What son of a bitch is that?” Enoch wanted to know.
Chuy looked to Raphael and back to the vessel. “Son of a bitch inside me,” he said. “Though it looks like you might know exactly what I’m talking about. Son of a bitch my brother. Son of a bitch who killed me and damned me to Hell because he was anxious to prove he was attracted to women.”
Enoch shook his head. “I don’t know your brother. Sounds like you two had a rough time.”
“Rough time? I had nothing all my life,” Chuy spat. “I got even less now, and that son of a bitch is to blame.”
“You made bad choices,” Raphael said, and immediately wished he hadn’t.
“You think it’s that easy?” Chuy laughed. “Everybody makes bad choices. Everybody! Except you, I guess. Guess that’s why you get to be all glowing and fifty feet tall. ’Cause you’re perfect, you never made a wrong call, not since the day the Horseshoe Crab Nebula crapped you out along with all the other glowing white turds.”
Raphael felt uncomfortable, and said nothing.
Chuy stared the angel in the eye. “Too right, bitch,” he said. “I saw you down there in Hell. I guess you must not have noticed me, but I saw you, and guess what, Silver Surfer? You were on the wrong damn side! It was you and that octopus devil and the fairy queen and the wizard and all the giant flies, wasn’t it?”
“I wasn’t fighting Heaven.” It was a lie, and Raphael knew it. “Both sides were wrong in that struggle.”
Enoch looked away, as if politely avoiding an awkward conversation.
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