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The Musically UnGifted Angelic Angel
by Julie Michaelson
07/28/10
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And
I saw
the seven
angels
who stand
before
God,
and
to them
were given
seven
trumpets.
[Revelation 8:2]
******************
The Rapture Day
is not far off. Everyone
in Heaven is getting ready:
saints can be seen building
houses and putting mulch
in the backyards....painting
the interior, and exteriors....
putting up wallpaper*....
installing white picket-fences.....
building furniture and swimming
pools......setting up little
dog houses, and gardens...
and, planting trees and
shrubs. Some saints
have even been put to
work, setting up Walmarts
and dry cleaners: for
those Raptured who might be
feeling particularly homesick.
There's some squabbling going on**
here and there, but generally
The Project is going just
as planned. The Set Date
is still, as yet... Unknown.

And, the angels are
getting ready, too.
At this moment, they are
all standing in the Main
Hallway, Shofars in hand,
and waiting to be admitted
into the Throne Room:
for a Trumpet-Blowing-
Dress-Rehearsal. All
the angels are sort of
nervous, particularly the
Trumpet Director,
Beethoven.
______________________________
(Angel Beethoven.)
"ALRIGHT, ANGELS!
SETTLE DOWN!
Is everybody......HERE?"

(A goody-two-shoes
voice pipes up. It's
Angel Marsha***.)
"Isn't Angel MICHAELSON....
SUPPOSED.. to be HERE?"

(Silence.)
(A noisy chorus of
Trumpets are being
set down on the
Gold Tile Floor,
and plaintiful moaning erupts.)

"ALRIGHT, ANGELS!
SETTLE..... DOWN!"
(Angel Beethoven blows
his Trumpet, really loudly.)
"Now......WHERE IS
ANGEL MICHAELSON?"

(Another goody-two-shoes
voice pipes up.)
"I SAW HER OVER
BY THE COW PASTURE,
......JUST A FEW MINUTES AGO,
DIRECTOR BEETHOVEN!
...SHE WAS FEEDING A
BUNCH OF CARROTS TO
ONE OF THE HORSES!"

(A third angelic voice
pipes up.)
"YEAH! AND...
HER TRUMPET..
WAS LAYING IN THE
GRASS, AND ONE OF
THE NEW CALFS WAS
LYING ON IT!"

(Angel Beethoven sighs.)
"WELL.....WOULD SOMEBODY....
GO OVER THERE......and, GET HER?
WE'RE ALMOST ABOUT
TO START!"

(An angelic voice pipes
up, again: one angelic hand
delicately waving.)
"I'LL GO,
DIRECTOR BEETHOVEN!
I'LL GO!"

(Sigh.)
"Alright, Angel MARSHA!
Leave your Trumpet here,
and FLY over there! Now,
the REST of YOU........"

(A FEW HEAVENLY
MOMENTS PASS.)

(MARSHA, THE ANGELIC
ANGEL, FLYS INTO
THE HALLWAY,
PULLING ON THE EDGE
OF THE GAUZY-GOWN OF
AN IRRITABLE-LOOKING
ANGEL. THE ANGEL,
WHOSE PLUMP WINGS
ARE TOO SMALL
AND WEAK FOR FLYING,
AND THEREFORE HAS
TO WALK ALONG
WHILE BEING PULLED,
IS WEARING BIG GLASSES,
AND AN AWKWARD-LOOKING
HALO, AND DRAGGING
A HUGE, OBVIOUSLY
TOO HEAVY,
GOLDEN SHOFAR....
WHICH IS
COVERED WITH GRASS
AND CALF-HAIRS...,
ALONG THE
TILED HALLWAY:
MAKING AN AWFUL
SCRAPPING SOUND.
THE SMELL OF CALF,
HAY, AND BARNYARD
FILLS THE THRONE-ROOM-
ENTRANCE-HALLWAY.)

(ONE OF THE ANGELS,
STANDING PERFECTLY
POISED IN LINE AND
FLICKING A MINISCULE
PIECE OF DUST OUT
OF HER BEAUTIFUL
HUGE WINGS,
SNEEZES.)

(Angel Marsha.)
"HERE SHE IS,
DIRECTOR BEETHOVEN!
I FOUND HER!"

(Everybody turns to look.)
(Director Beethoven glares.)
"ANGEL MICHAELSON!
WHAT DID I TELL YOU
ABOUT CARRYING YOUR
SHOFAR, THAT WAY?"

(Mumble.)
(Shaking gauzy-gown
off: a bunch of green
grass, and horse-hairs
float onto the Gold Tile.)
(Whiny squint.)
(Woeful whine.)
"WHY do I have to
BE HERE.......ANYWAY?
THIS IS STUPID!"

"BECAUSE THE LORD
SAID SO.....THAT'S WHY!
NOW, GET INTO LINE LIKE
ALL THE REST OF THE ANGELS!
AND....PICK UP YOUR VOICE!
PICK UP YOUR VOICE!
SING..WHEN YOU SPEAK!
..S..I..N..G!"
(Director Beethoven lifts
both his hands up in the
air, as though he were
leading a big orchestra.)

(Nasally snort.)
(Pull floaty-gauzy-gown,
irritably,
away from Marsha's
delicate angelic fingers.)
(Stick a tongue out,
at the angelic-angel:
making a raspberry-sound.)
(Shofar still scaping
along the Gold Tile.)
(Whiny, nasally,
unharmonious voice.)
"BUT, THIS isn't.......my
THING! WHAT am I
doing in here,
in the.....
CHOIR?
I can't SING!"

(Director Beethoven
begins tapping his bare
angelic toe. One angelic
hand is on his waist,
and the other is holding
his Shofar perfectly,
and professionally
upright.)
"Your.....THING......!"

(A chorus of angelic
laughter ensues.)
(The other angels
all look, smiling,
at each another.)

".....DOESN'T MATTER,
ANGEL-MICHAELSON!
NOW, GET INTO LINE!
And...I BETTER NOT
HEAR THAT AWFUL
SNORTING SOUND,
AGAIN!"

(Try to pick up
huge-heavy-golden
Shofar: trip
on the floaty-gauzy-gown.)
(Mumble.)
"Are YOU SURE.......
I'm supposed to BE HERE?"
(Squint down the perfect
row of beautiful-
angels-carrying-
Trumpets.)
(Squint back at the
stern-faced Trumpet-
Director.)
"MAYBE......it's ANOTHER
MICHAELSON.....who's
on the ROLL.....?"

(Director Beethoven
shakes his halo'ed head,
firmly. For a hopeful
moment though, he
peers back at his roll-
sheet that is lying
beneath the sheets
of Shofar-Music,
atop his music-stand.
After a pause,
he sighs and shakes
his bald head, again.
His halo is now askewed,
and sweaty.)
"NO!
ABSOLUTELY NOT,
ANGEL-MICHAELSON!
NOW, GET INTO LINE!
AND......HOLD THAT
SHOFAR UP!"
(Lifting his hand up,
toward the Heavenly-
Clouds.)
".....UP!"

(Mumble.)
"What kind 'a HEAVEN
is THIS? I THOUGHT
it was supposed
to be....
all...
FUN?"

[SUDDENLY, A RUMBLE
CAN BE HEARD FROM
INSIDE THE INNER
THRONE ROOM.]

(All the Trumpet Angels
stand still at attention:
not one feather of
a beautiful,
magnificent wing
moving:
mouths hanging open,
and angelic eyes looking
this way, and that.)

(Even Director Beethoven
is still. His eyes dart
quickly, and silently,
toward the Closed Golden Door
of the Throne Room.)

(Everybody is hushed:
even the two little
Page-Turning-and-Shofar-Shining-Angels,
who are busily assisting
the harried
Trumpet-Director,
suddenly stand
at attention
and turn their
big, huge
eyes toward
the Throne-Room-Door.)

[THE CLOSED GOLDEN
THRONE ROOM DOOR
OPENS. A REAL BIG
ANGEL STEPS OUT.
HE IS WEARING A STERN
COUNTENANCE,
A REAL BIG HALO,
AND 40-FOOT-WINGS.
IN ONE BIG HAND,
HE IS CARRYING A
HUGE FLAMING SWORD.
HE CALLS
OUT,
QUIETLY.]
"ANGEL-MICHAELSON!"

(Mumble.)
(Whiny, nasally, unharmonious tone.)
"What........NOW?"

[THE REAL BIG ANGEL,
WITH THE BIG HALO
AND REALLY BIG WINGS,
STANDS QUIETLY,
AND
WITHOUT SAYING
A WORD:
POINTS TOWARD THE THRONE ROOM.]

(Kvetchy grimace.)
(Drop Shofar, noisily, onto
the Gold Tiled Floor.)
(Mumble.)
"WHAT did I do.....NOW?"

[ANGELIC-POINT.]

(Mumble.)
(Woefully drop rumpled
halo'ed-head, and
gauzy-gowned-shoulders,
toward the Beautifully
Polished, Gold-Tiled-Floor.)
(Pick up Shofar, and
drag it along the Gold-Tiled-Floor,
making an awful, unharmonious
scraping sound.)
(Mumble, again.)
"THIS isn't...
any....
..FUN."
********************
So
the
seven
angels
who had
the
seven
trumpets
prepared
themselves
to
sound.
[Revelation 8:6]




_________________________
*Blue, with little angels.
**i.e.: whether or not
a MacDonalds should be
installed at the front
of the Walmart: things
like that.
***The author had a neighbor
who went to the same elementary school.
Her name was Marsha.
Marsha was always in the author's class....
and, was always the teacher's pet.

____________________
Dedicated
to my golf teacher,
at Penn State.

If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be! TRUST JESUS NOW

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