Thirty year old Elton James walked into the mahogany and marble board room of Katz and
Kradle Associates with a scowl on his face.
“What’s the matter James old boy, lose money on the Yankees this afternoon?” asked a fellow
junior vice president.
“No, I just found out I have the same hair stylist as Don King,” Elton quipped, adjusting his silk
tie before sitting down in his leather chair. The other ten members of the advertising agency’s
hierarchy joined in on the laugh.
As everyone was still chatting before the meeting Elton answered his cell phone.
“What!” was his alarmed response. The other board members went quiet.
“Where’s your mother? Okay, I remember. Yes. Listen Ryan...Ryan I doubt that is the case.
Now I want you to do exactly...Ryan, Ryan?” Mr. James immediately instructed his
administrative aide to call 911 and tell them an intruder was in the house with his son.
Elton’s tanned face paled as he bolted up to leave.
“What is it James?” asked the chairman of the board.
“He hung up on me, or I lost connection. I have to get home now.”
“But, what is it son?” the CEO asked again.
“My, 12 year old just asked if it was okay to feed an angel devils food cake,” the young father
blurted out as he ran from the board room.
Dodging traffic in his black mercedes Elton James answered his cell phone again.
“Doris. Yes he called me too. I have the police on the way. But, I thought you were picking him
up from school. My God Doris, couldn’t the spotted chipmunks in Peru wait so our son wouldn’t
have to walk home. Right, we’ll argue later. And where did he get the idea that strangers could
be angels? Sunday school! I told you letting him go to church with your sister was a bad idea.
With me? He’s not old enough, country club rules. You could cancel a wine tasting and spend
some time with him. Right, later. I’ll be there in twenty. Fine.” Elton clipped his phone shut
muttering, “angelic strangers, what the...”
The James’ matching mercedes pulled into their driveway at the same time. Two police cruisers
were parked on the street. Four officers were standing with the boy on the front archway when
Elton and Doris embraced their son.
“My God Ryan, are you all right?” they asked simultaneously.
“Yea, mom and dad, angels don’t hurt people.”
“Did you catch him?” Elton asked the senior officer on scene.
“No sir, but your son says he left him this bible. It has your name in it.”
Mr. James took hold of the book and opened it up.
“Is it yours Elton?” asked Doris.
“It sure looks like it. Even has the date I got saved wrote in it.”
“But I thought all of your stuff was destroyed in your parents fire.”
“I thought so too.”
“Son, where did you meet this man,?” a police officer asked.
“Walking home in the rain. He came up to me and asked why I was walking in wet weather. I
told him my parents forgot to pick me up again. He asked who my dad was. And after I told him
he opened a red umbrella and said he would walk me home.”
“Ryan what did we tell you about strangers,” his mother interrupted.
I thought he was an angel mom. Just something about him seemed cool. But I did make him
stay on the porch and locked the door while I got him something to eat, just in case.”
“Why would you get him something to eat,” asked dad.
“He looked hungry.”
“What did he look like?” asked another officer with a notebook open.
“Well, he kinda looked like Clint Eastwood in that western dad likes to watch where they paint
the whole town red.”
“That figures,” muttered Elton to himself.
By this time, Mrs. James had started looking at the bible. “Look dear, some of the pages do seem
singed. And look, the day you got saved, its today’s date, only 22 years later.”
“Yes dear, I noticed that.”
“Dad, the angel wanted me to ask if I could go golfing with you Sunday.”
Elton laughed some, “No Ryan I think we’ll be doing something else together this Sunday”.
“Oh dad, one more thing. Angels do eat devils food cake. But only with a cold glass of milk and
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