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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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Gospa’s Protection

Yugo Joe looked at Nelly over a tiny cup of coffee that seemed far too strong for civilized society.

“Nelly,” he said, “you should come to Croatia. Or at least to Medjugorje. The place runs on prayer, stories, candles, and people looking for something bigger than themselves.”

Nelly smiled cautiously. “You make it sound like an airport terminal for mystics.”

Joe pointed a finger.

“Exactly! And listen — the six Medjugorje seers? Their story brought pilgrims from everywhere. Believers, doubters, curious tourists, exhausted people carrying heavy lives. Lovers of Gospa, you could say.”

Nelly tilted her head. “Lovers of Gospa?”

“People devoted to Nossa Senhora. People who pray. People searching. People who want mercy, meaning, maybe even a miracle.”

The church bells sounded faintly in the distance.

“In our story,” Joe continued, “the six seers are expecting not celebrities, not influencers — but ordinary lovers of Gospa. The woman with the rosary worn smooth from use. The guy who hasn’t prayed in twenty years but walks up the hill anyway. The skeptic who says, ‘I’m just here for cultural reasons,’ and somehow ends up lighting a candle.”

Nelly laughed softly.

“So you’re recruiting me into a pilgrimage?”

Joe shrugged dramatically.

“I’m inviting you into a conversation older than both of us. Canada says, ‘Keep spirituality polite and personal.’ The Balkans say, ‘Pull up a chair, argue theology, drink coffee, and tell us your story.’”

“And what if people think I’m strange?”

Joe grinned.

“In the Balkans? Strange is practically a citizenship category.”

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