The Angel And The Phoenix

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The other day I had an idea for a short story about a married lesbian power couple who are also superheroes: one is an angel from a upperclass heavenly family who likes wearing black, and the other is a water-pistol-toting phoenix with an intense fear of cats. Their names are Victory and Amber Rose and they have two children, Celeste ( four) and Jesse-James (six).

The angel, I’ve decided, is based on Antonia, although I might make her blonde. The phoenix is a very loose depiction of myself – with flaming red hair obviously, plus she’s a lot more kickass.

I suppose rewriting myself as a regenerating mythical firebird is quite fitting when you think of it – I mean I am a firesign after all, and I have had copper and gold highlights through my hair a few times; and there’s also that whole reborn-at-the-age-of-fourteen-and-cant-remember-my-past stuff. I’m rather excited by the prospect of creating a mighty me on the page, who is probably going to end up being just as ridiculous as the real me, but with better biceps and the ability to juggle poi.

I’ve already started to imagine several conversations between Victory and Amber and their brood. In fact, I think their dinner dialogue might go something along the lines of this:

JJ:                        Mums, can I get a mohawk?

Celeste:            I would like a Tweetie Pie bird.

JJ:                        Mums, can I?

Amber:            (Grinning at Victory) I think that would be incredibly cute.

Victory:            (Horrified) Over my dead body.


Amber:            Where were you buried again, sweetheart?

JJ:                        So… can I?

Victory:            No.

JJ:                        (Looks at Amber) But you said…

Amber:            Your mother said no.

Celeste:            What about my Tweetie Pie?

Victory:            Both of you be quiet and eat your tofu nuggets.

JJ:                        (Under his breath) Tofu is gay.

Amber:            What did you say, mister?


                        Jesse, go to your nest, right now.

JJ:                        Aww but…

Amber:             Now.

(Celeste giggles)

Amber:            And what is so funny, Madame?

Celeste:            Jesse J is gay. (Finds this hysterical)

Victory:            You can leave the table too, Celeste.


After the children are gone Amber and Celeste clear the table together and then sit hugging on the sofa.


Amber:             Ugh, remind me again why we had kids?

Victory:             (Smiles and ruffles her wife’s feathers) What for? You’ll only forget in the next incarnation.

Amber:            (Sighs) One of us needs to have a word with our son about the use of the G-A-Y word.

Victory:            Be my guest.

Amber:            Aww but… can’t you…

Victory:            Honey, I’ve got three guardian reports to write; Touched By An Angel is on in half an hour; and I want to stretch my wings at some point this evening…


Amber pouts. Fade to black.

I can’t decide where to set this story. I was thinking Edinbugh or Brighton perhaps. Antonia, between sips of tea and reading a fantasy novel, interjects to say that I should create a whole imaginary city.

I think she should be quiet and paint me a picture of two gorgeous winged ladies in a naked embrace… I think that would be a very inspiring visual image to work with… I tell her this. She ignores me and goes back to her book.

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