Holidays

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Satan
answered
the Lord,
From going to
and fro
on the earth,
and
from walking
up and down
on it.
[Job 1:7]
**********************
(The Archangel Michael
is standing Guard,
at the Entrance of the
Throne Room. A visitor,
who has been in There
for quite some time,
suddenly appears:
exiting very slowly,
and purposefully.
The visitor is carrying
a large Manilla Envelope:
it bears a Crested Wax Seal,
and dangling from it, is
a Red Velvet Ribbon. The
visitor stops just outside
the Throne Room Entrance,
to light up a cigarette. He
takes a long drag, and then
cocks his handsome head,
with an air of intense,
and intimate curiosity.)
_________________________
"You still HERE,
Michael?"
(Smirk!)
"Isn't your shift,
eh...
DONE, YET?"
(Laugh!)

(The Archangel's
watchful eyes barely
flicker. He remains
silent.)

(Satan hefts the large
Manilla Envelope in
his beautifully tapered,
and graceful hand.)
"Your BOSS...."
(Satan cocks his
head, toward the
Throne Room.)
"...Just gave me a big
JOB....
to DO!"
(Shrug with pretense
humility.)
"If I weren't such
a WORKAHOLIC..."
(Smile!)
"....I'd be feeling
a little OVERWHELMED..
right now!"
(Chuckle!)

(Looking straight ahead,
the Archangel frowns,
just slightly.)

(Thoughtful puff.)
(Puff.)
(Long, purposeful exhalation
of a lovely gray plume of smoke.)
(The Hall Way is filled
with a sharp, burning scent.)
"So....Michael...
how long do you do this,
eh....Holiday MOONLIGHTING?"
(Laugh!)
(Rub chin, with thoughtful
intelligence.)
"Because...eh,
I KNOW...that,
you're usually off,
doing bigger, and better
THINGS!"
(Delightful smile!)

(The Archangel turns
his magnificent head,
just barely a quarter inch.)
"You were SUMMONED
Here, Satan."
(The Archangel's fist
tightens on the handle
of his long, edged sword.)
"Now GO."

"Michael! MICHAEL!"
(Satan drapes his long,
beautiful hand, dramatically,
over his heart.)
"I'm HURT!"
(Satan looks off to
one side, as if waiting
for an audience to sigh
along, with him.)
"...THIS is all,
that I GET?
From...an old FRIEND?"
(Long puff.)
"Aw...come ON!"
(Shrug.)
"It's the Holiday SEASON,
Michael!"
(Shrug.)
"Let's go out, and
grab a BREW, together!"
(Loud chuckling!)

(The Archangel's sword
makes a sudden sound:
like that of a long finger
nail scraping across a steely
-edged mirror.)

(A familiar drop
of chilly sweat,
suddenly appears,
at the base of Satan's
beautifully sculptured
neck, and spine. He ignores
it, and shrugs nonchalantly.)
"Hey....I can pick ya up,
in my LIMO! What
time, do you get OFF?"

(Silence.)

(Satan pauses;
he smiles, and makes
a pretense of glancing
at an imaginary wristwatch.)
"Seriously!"
(Puff.)
(Shrug.)
"What time do ya
punch OUTTA Here:
'bout,
MIDNIGHT?"

(The Hall Way thunders
with Angelic tones.)
"GO!"

(Satan takes another
long drag of his burning cigarette.
An ash falls off the tip, and
then vanishes into thin air.)
"Or...are ya working
OVERTIME tonight,
MICHAEL?"
(Voice full of
sincere commraderie.)
I can send my chauffer,
over: about one AM? Or TWO?"
(Shrug.)
"It's no PROBLEM,
my FRIEND!"

(The Hall Way echos
with loud, frightening
Angelic voice.)
"NOW!"

(Satan appears deaf,
to the thundering noise.)
"Hey; We can go
to a great NIGHTCLUB,
I know."
(Satan lowers his beautiful,
velvety voice, to a more intimate
tone.)
"And...eh, pick up a
couple of BROADS."

(The Archangel now
turns his magnificent
face toward the visitor,
still holding the large
Manilla Envelope with the
Crested Wax Seal and Velvet
Red Ribbon. The Angel
says nothing, but his
heavy wings, as tall as
the ceiling of the
Michaelangelo painting,
begin to spread: each
feather opening, one by
one.... by one.)

(Abrupt chuckle.)
"Okay!
OKAY!
I'm GOING!"
(Laugh!)
"Don't be such a SNOB,
MICHAEL!"
(One more puff of the
cigarette; then, Satan
flicks it into the air
and it vanishes.)
"After all........
my warrior FRIEND.....
we both got..
the same BOSS!"
(Burst into laughter!)
(Satan bows, and nods
his handsome head,
with the air of a royal
prince, toward one of
his lesser dukes. Tucking
the large Manilla
Envelope under his arm,
Satan turns and walks back
down the Long Hall Way,
whistling, lightly.)

(The Archangel's wings
stand magnificently still,
as he watches the visitor
saunter away,
as graceful as a dancer,
into the velvety darkness.
Michael's own sword remains
unsheathed,
for a long time.)
****************************
Now
war arose
in heaven,
Michael
and his angels
fighting
against
the dragon;
and
the dragon
and his angels
fought.
[Revelation 12:7]

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