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One Stroke to Midnight 2
by Julie Michaelson
12/29/11
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And,
I beheld
another beast....
and he causes
all .....small and great,
rich and poor....
to receive a mark.
[Revelation 13:11-16]
**********************

Time: During the Third Year of the Tribulation.
Place: Up in the Heavenly Realm:
in the Angel Fencing
Practice Quarters, Front Office.
Characters: Archangel
Michael, Fencing Student-Angels Sylvestor and Briggund.

(In the previous story, Elena is on her way
home from work; she is walking through the empty, dark parking lot in the pouring rain. Elena has a horrific decision to make: whether or not to stop at the HR department......to get 666 tattooed on her forehead.....in order to use the new company time clock....and, keep her job.)
____________________________________
(A very stern, heavily-accented voice
interrupts the clanging,
stomping, and muffled yelling
of the Fencing-Practice
Room.)
"ANGEL SYLVESTOR!
ANGEL BRIGGUND!
STOP PRACTICING!
COME HERE!
THE LORD HAS AN
ASSIGNMENT FOR
YOU!"

(Two heavily-armored angels,
wearing practice pads
and fencing-face masks, drop their big
heavy practice neon-light-tipped
swords, leaving them
to clatter noisily on the
gold-tile floor, and
come scurrying over,
in clumsy ill-fitting
fencing boots,
to the Archangel's
front office. The office
is inside a small, rainbow colored
cloud and has the Archangel's Golden
Wings-and-Swords symbol
over the floating glass door;
inside the office, the air
smells almost overwhelmingly
of a burning campfire on
a moonlit night: high up in
the frosty mountains of Alaska.
It is the unforgettable scent
of the massive Archangel.
Outside one of the windows of
the office, standing with golden
mane-held-high, can be seen the
Archangel's magnificently stoic
white horse, Majestic.)

(Two angelic voices,
neither musical nor melodious....
muffled through screen-like
fencing masks...and
very out-of-breath,
respond.)
"HERE WE ARE,
ARCHANGEL MICHAEL!"

(Stern frown.)
(Heavily-lashed glare.)
"What have I TOLD
you two about halting
PROPERLY, and returning your swords
to their proper PLACES?"

(One angelic-voice,
still puffing heavily.)
"SORRY, ARCHANGEL
MICHAEL! SHOULD
WE GO BACK TO THE
PRACTICE-ROOM AND
FINISH UP, AGAIN?"

(The nostrils of Michael's
long, aquiline nose flare,
a bit; his high muscular
cheekbones slightly glint,
in the eternal sunlight streaming
in through the clouded-windows.
His heavily-accented voice
has a clipped and authoritative
tone.)
"NO!
And, REMOVE your
MASKS!"

(Two heavy fencing-
masks are pulled off
and dropped, rather
clumsily and noisily,
to the gold-tile floor.)

(Gritting his beatifully-shaped
sparkling white teeth,
the Archangel closes
his heavily-lashed,
huge dark eyes for one moment,
and takes a slow, deep breath.
Michael's huge muscular chest
moves gently under his rough,
gauzy white gown. Only a few
of his black curly chest hairs
are visible from beneath the
rough gauzy material.*
When Michael opens his eyes,
the two angels are still
standing there: one
much shorter and plumper than the other,
who has very frizzy and
matted, long blond hair,
and beige red-freckled wings.)
"At ATTENTION,
angels!"

(Sylvestor, the shorter
plump one, and Briggund,
the one with the matted frizzy blond hair,
both fold in their
fencing-practice-padded wings,
and pull up their fencing practice-padded shoulders:
holding in their angel-
breath. Sylvestor,
whose lopsided wings aren't
folding in very well,
can't hold his breath
for very long and spits
it out - making a loud
bursting sound.)
"Yes, SIR!
I mean........YES,
ARCHANGEL SIR!"

(Another harshly clipped,
stern sigh.)
"Now, HARK: angels
Sylvestor and Briggund!
I have just come from
the Throne Room! The
Lord has commanded
an earthly-assignment
be given to the two of
you!"

(Slyvestor's and Briggund's big round
eyes both turn to
one another, without
moving their haloe'd
heads; the Archangel
didn't use the word
'HARK' unless it
was something really
serious. Sylvestor
mumbled under his
puffy-out-of-shape
breath: "uh, oh.")

(Michael, without
moving one feather
of his twenty-to-thirty-foot
high wings or one
waist-length long,
dark hair of his magnificently-
haloe'd head, looks
at Sylvestor for a stern
moment and then
continues. Michael's voice
is deep, rich, and
so heavily-accented
that it always takes
the lower-quadrant angels
a great deal of attention to completely
understand him; what
makes it worse is that
the Archangel only
speaks in Medieval-
Shakespearean Angel-
Speak.)
"The Assignment begins immediately!
You two are to fly to
the lower-most atmosphere of Earth
and come to the aid
of one of the Lord's
beloved CHILDREN!"

(Sylvestor.....whose
curly brown, shoulder-
length hair is still
dripping with sweat
from all the unaccustomed
excercise....is leaning
forward, squinting,
and biting his plump
underlip with two very buck teeth:
concentrating, rather
cluelessly.)
"You mean..........a HUMAN?"

(Briggund, whose frizzy blond hair is
sticking to his matted wings, and
who is trying to hide
the extra-large-size Snickers candy bar
in his left hand, speaks
up.)
"BUT......we've never
TALKED to humans,
BEFORE! We're only
DEMON-fighters!"

(The Archangel closes
his huge eyes again, and
sighs, trying with frustration to keep
his patience. Sylvestor
and Briggund, so far,
have only fought with
two Lesser-Demons named
Darth-Demon and R2D2:
and, each time was a bumbling failure.)
"This is an ASSIGNMENT from
the Most-High! It
is not for EITHER of
YOU to ARGUE, or
QUESTION! Is that
clear?"

(Briggund lowers his
big freckled chin to his fencing-
practice-padded chest.
He mumbles:
still fingering
the now-melting chocolate
bar.)
"Yes, sir........
I mean: yes, Angelic-
Sir."

"And, HAND OVER
that CANDY-BAR!
RIGHT NOW! You
KNOW there is not
food ALLOWED IN
THE FENCING-ROOM,
ANGEL-BRIGGUND!"

(Mumble.)
"Yes...............sir."
(Briggund haltingly lifts
his big balled-up left
fist and slowly unfolds
it into the Archangel's
waiting open palm. The
Archangel, who has
never eaten anything
in his entire Angelic-life**, simply
stares at the big melting
chocolate piece of candy,
closes his huge palm,
and sighs.)
"NOW! You're not
to get LOST, this
TIME! I have a MAP
for you to STUDY!"

(Michael holds out
a big folded map to
Briggund, who takes
it with his left hand:
the folded onion-skin
paper immediately
becomes smeared
with chocolate.)

(Sylvestor leans over
toward his buddy with
squinted eyes, and buck
teeth protruding; he
doesn't like maps.)
"CAN'T WE HAVE
a.....GPS? I HEAR THAT'S WHAT THE
OTHER ANGELS GET
NOWADAYS!"

(Very stern voice.)
"NO!
Absolutely.....NOT!
You'd DROP IT, before
you'd ever reach the
lower-ATMOSPHERE!
Now LISTEN you TWO!
HARK! THIS IS A
VERY IMPORTANT
ASSIGNMENT!"
(The Archangel, who
had a big wooden-table-
desk but never leaned
on it, stood at elegant attention:
his massive
twenty-to-thirty-foot-wings
towering over the two
student-angels, and one huge finger
pointing at both their woefully frowning faces.
The shorter,
plumper student-angel
looked like he was
going to cry. The other
blond-haired one kept
staring at the Snickers
bar, that had been placed
on the huge wooden-table-desk that
had been created for
the Archangel... but never used.)

(Sylvestor mumbled softly:
his plump lips quivering, and wet.)
"I don't LIKE HUMANS! They make
me NERVOUS!"

"At EASE, you TWO!
SIT over THERE! On
those PILLOWS! And,
stop CRYING, SYLVESTOR!
GIRD YOUR WINGS, like
an ANGEL!"

(Both angels turned
and heads down with
woe, lumbered over to
the two big pillows over
by the door to the
Archangel's cloud-shaped office,
and plumped down.
Sylvestor was still sniffling;
he picked up a raggedy
corner of his stained-white angel gown,
and very loudly blew his bulbous of a nose.)

(The Archangel,
whom the lesser-archangels
called 'Captain', was
patiently walking back
and forth on his huge
bare feet: both hands
now elegantly folded
behind his muscular winged back.
The swosh of his rainbow-
colored, gold-tipped
wings made a gentle
sound against the white
cloud-walls of the sunny office.
He produced two big pads of onion-
skinned paper***, and dropped them both
in front of the student-
angels: producing a
loud slamming sound
on the gold-tiled floors.)
"NOW!
We are going to go
OVER every DETAIL
of this very IMPORTANT ASSIGNMENT!
I want EACH OF you to take
very CAREFUL NOTES!"

(Slyvestor, hiccuping,
and wiping a
tear-stained cheek
with his plump-fisted
hand, leaned toward
his angelic-buddy and
whispered woefully.)
"Do you have a .........PEN?"
*************************
And
there was
a war
in heaven;
Michael and
his angels
fought
against
the
dragon.
[Revelation 12:7]


Copyright 2011.
____________________________
*Michael is the only angel,
in the entire Heavenly Realm,
allowed to have chest hair.
**In the Heavenly-Realms,
angels only eat if they
want to, but they don't have to:
it's like.......
humans, and watching football games.)
***Angels aren't allowed to use computers.



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