Battle of the Blue Genes 2
SEND A PRIVATE MESSAGE
HIRE THIS WRITER
(Author's note: I wrote 'Blue
Genes' a while back. I can't
remember, but it's down,
somewhere, on the list. I'm too depressed to look for it,
right now. [Jewish humor.])
day and night,
Where is thy God?
"I just fired another
He was so..... BORING!
I was getting depressed
just going IN.....THERE!"
TWICE! What a WASTE 'A
[BECKON TO AN ANGEL
WHO HAS JUST APPEARED
IN THE THRONE ROOM DOORWAY. The angel slumps
disheartedly into the Throne
Room: his little face downcast,
and his bewinged shoulders
slumping; his small, uneven dirty-white wings are
limp and downcast, and even his long white gauzy
robe is poked with tiny brown twigs, spotted with stains from Earth, and smelling of Earth recycle-garbage. Hanging lopsisded on the angel's curly head is his dimly-lit halo:
looking as if a Saint Bernard puppy had been chewing around
the edges of it.]
CO-PAY! It wasn't WORTH
(The angel, whose name is
Bluesky, gets down on the
Gold Floor, awkwardly, with
his small dirty bare feet, and
kneels face down onto one of
the Velvet Kneeling Pillows before the Thrones.
Immediately, Bluesky starts
sobbing, dejectedly, into his
blue velvet pillow. His small
hand reaches out, blindly, for
the big blue box of kleenex
that are always set by the
Kneeling Pillows on the Gold Floor. Bluesky sits up for a moment to blow his little nose;
then his little face screws up
with more sobs and he falls back, face down, on the blue
velvet pillow: sobbing rather
loudly, interspersed with loud
"I had a better THERAPY
session with my FRIEND,
at MACDONALDS, right before goin' to Dr. WHATSIT,
for just 7 dollars
for the CHICKEN SALAD!"
TO BLUESKY, ALSO: COMMANDING ONE OF THE
GUARD ANGELS TO RUN OVER AND HAND BLUESKY
ANOTHER BOX OF KLEENEX, AND A SMALL GLASS
OF ORANGE JUICE.]
"She had the Texas Rancho
Chicken Salad. I had the Regular Crispy Chicken, Lord
That Mexican food smells GREAT, but it always burns
my stomach. I got bad genes, Lord."
"That hypnosis is REALLY.....
DUMB. I've done that STUFF,
They always tell me to picture
sitting by the OCEAN....or....a
LAKE....or....a SWIMMING POOL. YOU know I HATE water, Lord!
Just THINKING of OCEAN....makes me SEASICK!"
(Bluesky is now sitting up, sniffing and snorting a bit holding a wadful of kleenex, and has gratefully accepted a big glass of orange juice from the Guard Angel Gardillio. Gardillio asks his little friend what happened to his halo down on Earth; Bluesky murmurs, quite woefully, that Klodlok, one of the Lesser Sparkling-Green Demons of the Second Layer, had jumped on him from behind a recycle-garbage bin and bit a huge chunk out of his halo. After taking a big gulp, Bluesky looks woefully around the Throne Room, and asks if he can have an oatmeal cookie.)
"Yeah! I don't even DRINK
water! HATE the stuff!
Unless it's gotta bunch a'
SUGAR, and CARBONATION
[BECKON TO GARDILLIO, WHO RUNS OUT OF THE THRONE ROOM AND THEN
RUNS BACK: HOLDING A LITTLE BOWL OF WARM,
OATMEAL-SMELLING COOKIES: FULL OF NUTS,
BROWN SUGAR, CINNAMON, AND CHOCOLATE BITS.
GARDILLIO GOES OVER TO WHERE BLUESKY
IS KNEELING, AND HOLDS
OUT THE LITTLE BLUE BOWL. BLUESKY, WHO HAS
BEGUN SOBBING AGAIN,
NODS GRATEFULLY AND WOEFULLY: HIS LITTLE BLUSH-COLORED
LIPS AND SMALL PLUMP CHIN TREMBLING. HE REACHES OUT FOR A
COOKIE AND STUFFS IT WHOLE, INTO HIS CHERUB-SHAPED MOUTH,
AND BEGINS TO CHOMP NOISILY.
WARM BITS OF COOKIE DOUGH FALL TO THE GOLD
FLOOR. GARDILLIO LOOKS
UP QUESTIONINGLY AT THE THRONE. HE RECEIVES
A NOD, SETS DOWN HIS BIG BRASSY SWORD,
AND THEN TAKES
A WARM COOKIE OUT OF
THE BLUE BOWL. HE
STUFFS THE COOKIE WHOLE INTO HIS MOUTH,
"What do I DO......Lord?
What do I DO?"
"About all my DEPRESSION...
for your joy,
[WATCH, WHILE GARDILLIO
AND BLUESKY FINISH OFF
ALL THE COOKIES IN THE
BOWL, TALK AND LAUGH WITH EACH OTHER, AND
THEN GARDILLIO WALKS
BAREFOOT BACK TO HIS
GUARDING STATION WHILE BLUESKY CONTIUNES TO KNEEL:
BLOWING HIS LITTLE NOSE, FOR FIVE MINUTES,
INTO ANOTHER WAD OF
KLEENEX. THE KLEENEX IS
WHITE AND SPECKLED WITH LITTLE BLUE ANGELS.]
Make a joyful
of His name!
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