In the last scene of It’s Raining Men, first volume of the Slacker Demons series, due to circumstances far too complicated to relate, two enormous invisible aircraft hover over a sleepy Chicago neighborhood: a white gooney bird from heaven (The Home Office) and a black stealth helicopter from hell (The Regional Office). Each contains fifty winged denizens, some with white fluffy wings, some with red bat wings. One hundred members of a joint task force are united on a mission to capture one man.
But for reasons far too convoluted to explain, at this very moment that one man is setting off fireworks dipped in a love potion. And as his enemies dive out of their aircraft into the landing zone, they’re hit by enchanted sparks—their wings fail—their minds are clouded—they fall splat to the ground, and are gathered up, each and every one, by the lonely women of the neighborhood, who run out of their apartments in their pajamas yelling, “It’s raining men!”
I suppose I could have gone angsty with this story. Divine beings bereft of purpose, vile demons who’ve forgotten all but evil, innocent mortal women helplessly in love with impossible men, blah blah blah. A really good writer like Charity Parkerson could milk a situation like this for all the broody emotion it was worth. Plus, of course, the sex.
All I can think of is the comic potential.
Plus, of course, the sex.
What if two guys, the last angel and the last demon to yell Geronimo, see what’s happening to their comrades and manage to escape their fate?
What if they find out that, through the power of the love potion in those stinging sparks, their names and records have been scrubbed from the Big Database?
What if, jobless and without even a pair of pants between them, they thankfully accept subcontract work…as sex demons?
There’s a limited number of gags you can work this situation for. I think I found them all. Try It’s Raining Angels and Demons here and let me know if I missed one.