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Like An Angel

Joe & Nelly — “Semper Liber”

JOE: Nelly… I have a confession.

NELLY: That tone never leads anywhere normal.

JOE: I stole my brother Michael’s legacy.

NELLY: …You borrowed his jacket again?

JOE: No, no. Bigger. Metaphysical theft.

NELLY: Of course.

JOE: You see… I am actually Fallen Angel Michael… from the Pleiadian galaxy.

NELLY: The Pleiadian galaxy isn’t even—

JOE: Details. Earth people are obsessed with details.

NELLY: And what exactly is your mission, “Angel Michael”?

JOE: To roam this primitive blue planet dispensing unsolicited wisdom, questionable philosophy, and discount salvation.

NELLY: Sounds underfunded.

JOE: Very. Celestial budget cuts.

NELLY: So why “fallen”?

JOE: Paperwork dispute. I asked Heaven for independent contractor status.

NELLY: You got fired from eternity?

JOE: Semper Liber, Nelly. Always free.

NELLY: That sounds suspiciously like something a guy says after forgetting to pay rent.

JOE: Freedom is expensive.

NELLY: And your love?

JOE: Always free. No subscription model. No hidden fees. No deluxe premium angel tier.

NELLY: Impressive. Most modern messiahs have merch.

JOE: I had merch once.

NELLY: What happened?

JOE: Customs seized it at the Orion checkpoint.

NELLY: Convenient.

JOE: Believe me or don’t. That’s the beauty of Earth. Everybody gets a vote.

NELLY: And if I don’t believe you’re Michael from space?

JOE: Then I’m merely Joe… a charming cosmic tax exile with theatrical delusions and very generous affection.

NELLY: That explanation somehow sounds more believable.

JOE: Semper Liber.

NELLY: Buy me coffee, Fallen Angel.

JOE: Ah. Nothing is free after all.

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A Regular Guy

Joe tells Nelly:

“Barack Obama is nothing like President Camacho from Idiocracy, Nelly. People can joke all they want, but Obama ordered the mission that stopped Osama bin Laden. Not with monster trucks and machine guns — with intelligence, planning, and, sure… maybe a little help from an average Joe keeping score from the cheap seats.”

Joe smirks.

“History’s funny like that. The most wanted man in the world brought down under President Obama, while regular people sit at home arguing online, convinced they could run the Situation Room better. President Camacho had explosions. Obama had briefings, drones, and Navy SEALs.”

Nelly raises an eyebrow. “And where does the ‘average Joe’ fit into this story?”

Joe taps his chest dramatically.

“Moral support, Nelly. Every commander-in-chief needs an unpaid armchair strategist somewhere in the empire.”

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Average Joe

INT. COZY VANCOUVER COFFEE SHOP – RAINY EVENING

The rain streaks down the big windows. NELLY FURTADO, casual in a hoodie and beanie, sits across from JOE — regular guy, flannel shirt, tired but honest eyes. Two untouched lattes between them.

NELLY (leaning in, warm smile) Joe… you’re a regular guy. There’s no way around it. And that’s okay. That’s beautiful, actually.

JOE (small laugh) Thanks? I think.

NELLY All you have to do is bless Israel. That’s it. Genuflect a little. Stand up for her like the Sunday TV preachers do. Pastor Hagee built everything on it — money, influence, favor. “I will bless those who bless you.” It works, Joe. You could have that too. Financial success. Open doors. All of it.

She reaches across the table, gentle but intense.

NELLY (CONT’D) You don’t have to become a televangelist. Just make the choice in your heart. Bless her. Support her. The rest flows from there. I’m telling you this because I see something in you. Don’t stay stuck, Joe.

JOE (quiet, but firm — he sits back) Nelly… I appreciate you looking out for me. I really do. But I’m not doing that.

NELLY (confused) What do you mean?

JOE I’m not gonna bless Israel just so the universe cuts me a check. That’s not how I want to live. I’m not kneeling for money or “favor” or whatever prosperity gospel remix this is.

(beat, looking her in the eyes) I’ve got my own principles. My own conscience. I’m not trading them for a shot at Pastor Hagee’s lifestyle. Regular guy or not, I’m not for sale like that.

NELLY (soft, almost pleading) It’s not about selling out. It’s about alignment. Stepping into the blessing lane.

JOE (shakes his head, calm but resolute) My lane doesn’t go through genuflecting to any nation-state for personal gain. I’ll stand on what I actually believe — not what pays better. If that means staying regular forever… then I guess I’m regular forever.

He stands up, pulls on his jacket.

JOE (CONT’D) Thanks for the coffee, Nelly. And the song about the bird still slaps. But I’m not blessing Israel on command. Not today. Not ever.

Joe walks out into the rain. Nelly watches him go, a mix of surprise and respect on her face.

FADE OUT.

End of Scene.

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