A Conversation Between Angels XXVII

“Hi Phil.”

“Hi Phil.”

“Been dead twenty years and I still think my name is Punxsutawney Phil.”

“I know. I tracked down my mom when I first got here and she wanted nothing to do with me. Wouldn’t tell me my real name, said I went all Hollywood.”

“Same here. Told her I did it because the life expectancy was longer and she said I was unnatural. Unnatural? What can be more natural than being the predictor of nature’s future?”

“I hear ya. But you know, I did it for five years and I gotta say, having to interact with those humans and smell that whiskey on their breaths that they took to ‘keep warm’ did feel a little like I was selling out at the end.”

“True. True. Considering we haven’t really been able to communicate with them until we died, they just made it up anyway.”

“Yep and I saw yesterday’s event and they said Phil said it would be an early spring just to cover up global warming.”

“I know. Oh oh, here comes one of the humans. They’re gonna ask if it’s gonna be cloudy tomorrow cause they think we know everything about the weather.”

“Crap, I’m out of here.”

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