Doesn't the tale go somewhere along the lines of 'Cupid shoots two people with her arrows and they are each other's Valentines'? 'Cause that's what I heard. But, oddly enough, I think there's somethin' screwy with that tale, 'cause last I counted, Cupid was a shootin' people left and right, destining three peeps for every five, and every one claimed the title 'Valentine'. So, either the legend's completely wrong or Cupid's mind has been spending time at the kitchen sink, droppin' her marbles down the drain along with some nuts from her fruitcake. One or the other....
Regardless, the confusion leaves a right mess for the social janitor to clean up. John's tears have flooded the halls 'cause the toilets are clogged with Miranda's morning sickness since she slept with Nick after Alan wanted to take Lynn to the prom instead of her. And that's just the beginning of this(these) hurricane affair(s)! The whole damned town has been caught up in Cupid's madness! (Though on second thought, she may have just lost her ability to hit a fifty foot target.)
And to further complicate things, we've got faux cherubs flying the halls as well, playing matchmaker like Fiddler on the Roof was just a trailer for the real show. Badly, I might add. (Their aim is worse than Cupid's!) Everywhere you look, there's drama drizzling from tear ducts making a bitter sauce for the St. Valentine's chocolates in that pretty wrapped box. 'Cause left and right, there's three Valentines thinking they belong to another five and wading boots are becoming harder to find. I'm somehow doubting that it's the legend at fault.... Maybe 'cause there's a clog in my kitchen sink....
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