Have you ever watched the TV series, Touched by an Angel, the show where three angels are sent to Earth to help depressed people and tell them that God still loves them? It came out in ’94 and ran for nine seasons. No? Doesn’t ring a bell? That’s fine because the show was propaganda anyway and was designed to misinform and distract from the truth.

The truth is that angels don’t look anything like how they are portrayed in mainstream media. They don’t have wings, at least not in the typical sense. Some have halos, and some don’t. They mostly look like nightmare fuel. But most importantly, when you are touched by a biblically accurate angel, the chances that you’ll go mentally insane are pretty high.

I remember the first time I saw an angel. I was strung out over speedball, and, unbeknownst to me, my buddy had overdosed next to me. I awoke to the sound of something being ripped apart, like wet wrapping paper being torn from a gift. I saw this creature with too many eyes and wings munching on my friend’s arm. Flesh hung from its razor-sharp teeth. Obviously, I screamed. My mind couldn’t process what I saw, and I began clawing at my eyes. I passed out from blood loss, and when I awoke, I was in a room whose walls were littered with crosses.

That room was in the Institute for Religiously Insane People. As I said earlier, when you encounter an angel, chances are you’re going to be messed up for a while, and at IRIP, our goal is to help those individuals and try to get them reformed and back into society.

That’s right; I work for IRIP now. It took me a long time, but the priests here helped me recover, and I wanted to pay it forward. Though, the only reason the mental damage wasn’t more significant was that I was so high at the time. Anyway, I started to work in intake and as a patient care coordinator.

The success rate of rate for rehabilitation is about 50/50. It depends on if the angel performed some miracle on you or if you witnessed feeding time. The human mind is fragile and usually can’t handle seeing divine acts.

Of the patients that do get to leave IRIP, more than half of them return to lead everyday lives. The others, well, you can usually see them walking down the street, thrusting signs in the and yelling about the apocalypse.

Please don’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, but Adam is also a patient here. He keeps getting released for good behavior but keeps tracking Eve down and trying to get his rib back.

I love my job. Although it can be stressful and monotonous after 100 years, I couldn’t see myself anywhere else. And the coolest part is when Jesus visits and tells us dad jokes.