Short Stories

---

Rejoice
always.
[1 Thessalonians 5:16]
*********************
(Guardino, the Big,
Huge, Unhandsomely
Guard Door Angel
at the Throne Room
Door, speaks.)
"My LORD?"

[GENTLE SIGH.]
"Yes,
My Guardino.
What is it."

"It's Briggund
and Sylvestor,
my LORD!"
(Guardino's huge,
unglittering,
non-sparkly,
no-nonsense wings
look slightly
ruffled.)
"THEY WISH TO
ENTER!"

[PATIENT VOICE.]
"I thought they were
in Demon-Fencing Class,
right now.......
with Archangel Michael?"

(Guardino's big no-
nonsense halo bobs
up and down.)
"Yes, My LORD!
But, I think that
ARCHANGEL MICHAEL
has GRANTED THEM
A FEW MOMENTS
OF RECESS!"
(More halo-bobbing.)
"....SO THAT
THEY COULD TALK
WITH YOU!"

[PATIENT SIGH.]

(Guardino shifts
his huge left bare foot,
just a tad. He clears
his big throat, a little.)
"So....
..they could come
SPEAK WITH YOU,
MY LORD!
THEY BOTH SEEM
SLIGHTY RATTLED,
MY LORD!"

[SIGH.]
"Very well."
[PATIENT NOD.]
"Allow them to enter,
Guardino."

"YES, MY LORD!"
(Guardino steps outside
the Throne Room Door.
Outside can be heard
some hushed, anxious-
sounding mumbles.
Guardino steps back
inside, and allows the
two visitors to pass.)

(In walks,
rather hestitantly
and with wings downcast,
two angels:
one is tall, and big, and
freckled, and blond;
the other is short, and
dark-haired, and
much plumper.
Both are wearing
big neon-colored helmets,
bright orange padded tunics,
big neon-orange
wing-tip-protective-pads,
neon-orange colored
padded gloves, and
carrying neon orange
and green-colored swords
labeled 'Fencing Class'.
Both angels' halos are askew;
their faces are sweaty and
red, with obvious
unaccustomed exertion.
Sylvestor's plump face
is much sweatier,
and his halo is hanging
limply off his
dark curly head.)

[PATIENT VOICE.]
"Come in,
My Briggund and Sylvestor."

(Two angelic voices,
neither musical, nor
melodious like Choir
Director Serapherino,
nor heavily-accented
and whisper-soft like
Archangel Michael,
nor quiet and strong
like Earthly Messengers
Raphael and Gabriel,
simultaneously reply.)
"YES,
MY LORD!"

[GENTLY PATIENT SIGH.]
[BECKON.]

(Both angels, still
wearing all their Demon-
Fencing Class paraphanelia,
flop face-down,
onto the velvet kneeling cushions
before the Two Thrones.
Both try to imitate
Archangel Michael's
graceful kneeling position
in the King's Presence:
with majestic wings folded
and long, muscular arms
spread out before him,
like a beautifully powerful
eagle sweeping down in flight......
but fail miserably.
Briggund trips and
smacks himself
in the head with
his Practice Sword;
Sylvestor misses his
kneeling-cushion and
bangs his bulbous nose
on the Gold Floor: one
of his padded-wing-tips
falls off, and into the
Flowing River of Life:
floating like a bright
orange wedge of Earth-
navel-orange...
going downstream.)

[SIGH.]
"Permission to speak,
My Angels."

(Briggund, the less
shyer of the two
Fighting-Angelic-buddies
......raises his big, blond head.
His freckled nose
is slightly redder than
usual, from exertion...
and from smacking it against
the bright-purple
kneeling-cushion.)
"OUR LORD?
SYLVESTOR WISHES
ME TO SPEAK FOR
HIM! IS THAT OKAY?"

[SIGH.]
[GENTLE NOD.]
"Speak,
My Briggund."

"THANKS,
MY LORD!
I MEAN......
OUR LORD!
WELL........!"
(Briggund glances at
the dark curly head
on the bright-orange
velvet cushion, beside him.)

(Anxious, woeful mumble
can be heard from the
bright-orange cushion.)

"OKAY!
WELL!"
(Briggund pauses,
and squints over
at the Throne to the
Left.)
"DOES THE FATHER
WANT TO HEAR
THIS, TOO?"

[GRUFF SIGH.]
[GRUFF NOD.]
"YES,
Angel Briggund!
Now.......SPEAK!"

"WELL!
UH......."

(Another anxiously woeful
mumble from the bright
orange cushion.)

"YEAH!
WELL!
It's like THIS!
UH........"
(Briggund pauses to
scratch his freckled nose,
and sniff loudly;
the velvet cushions
on the Throne Room Floor
always make him
sneeze.)
"Well......ANGEL SYLVESTOR
HAD A BAD
DREAM, LAST NIGHT!"

[GRUFF SIGH.]

[GENTLE NOD.]
"We understand,
Angel Briggund.
[GENTLE SMILE.]
"Now......
tell Us about it."

(Woeful mumble from
orange cushion.)

(Briggund wiggles his
big freckled nose: trying
valiantly not to sneeze,
like any good Fighting-Angel.)
"YES, MY LORD!
WELL!
IT'S LIKE THIS!"

(Mumble from orange
pillow.)

(Briggund squints
down at the back
of his buddy's head:
Sylvestor's halo is
limply hanging off the
side of his neon-orange
padded helmet,
and his dark
curly hair is peeking out
the sides of the too-
big helmet.)
"ANGEL SYLVESTOR
DREAMT ABOUT DARTH-DEMON,
LAST NIGHT,
MY LORD! HE
GOT REALLY SCARED!"

[GENTLY COMPASSIONATE
NOD.]
"We understand,
My Briggund.
[GENTLE VOICE.]
"Go on,
My child."

"WELL!
IT WAS LIKE THIS,
MY LORD! IN THE
DREAM.. DARTH-DEMON
AMBUSHED POOR
SYLVESTOR AND
REALLY POUNCED ON
HIM, HARD! HE WAS
REALLY...... NASTY!"

[GENTLE GLANCE
TO THE LEFT.]

[GRUFF FROWN.]
[GRUFF VOICE.]
"Go on."

".....AND, SMUSHED
A BUNCH 'A GREEN
GOBBLY-GOOP ALL OVER HIS FACE!
SYLVESTOR COULDN'T BREATHE,
MY LORD!
HE COULDN'T BREATHE!"

[GRUFF SIGH.]
"What happened
next."

"WELL!"
(Briggund is now
pinching the sides
of his freckled nose;
the sneeze is coming
closer and closer to
the surface.)
"THEN, HE GRABBED
SYLVESTOR'S HALO
AND STUCK IT ON TOP
'A HIS OWN HEAD,
MY LORD! HE RAN
AWAY WITH IT.... ON!"

[GENTLE SIGH.]

(Anxiously woeful
mumble from orange
floor-cushion.)

"AND HE WAS REALLY
SCARED!
SYLVESTOR, I MEAN!
HE WAS REALLY SCARED,
MY LORD!
WOKE ME UP!"

[GRUFF VOICE.]
"Woke who up,
My child."

(Briggund sniffs loudly;
he keeps wondering what
Archangel Michael would
do if HE had to sneeze
in the Presence of the
Thrones. What would
HE DO?)
"WOKE ME UP, FATHER!
SYLVESTOR WOKE
ME, UP! HE WAS SO
SCARED! HE WAS TOSSING
AND TURNING AND MUMBLING
AND MUTTERING! AND,
YA KNOW HOW FAST
I SLEEP, FATHER!
NOTHIN' EVER
WAKES ME UP!"

[GRUFF NOD.]
[FROWN.]
"That is TRUE."

[GENTLE SMILE!]
"Yes,
My Briggund.
Go on."

(Sniff.)
"WELL!
I JUMPED UP FROM
MY SLEEPING-CLOUD-
MAT......AND STARTED
SHAKING POOR SYLVESTOR'S SHOULDER!
I HAD TO REALLY SHAKE HIM UP,
MY LORD!"

[GENTLY PATIENT
VOICE.]
"Go ON."

"WELL! THAT WAS
IT, MY LORD!
THAT WAS IT!
BUT IT SCARED BOTH US,
REAL BAD! WE WERE
UP THE REST OF THE
NIGHT! THEN, WE
FINALLY FELL BACK
ASLEEP, RIGHT AROUND DAWN!
FAST ASLEEP ON OUR CLOUD-MATS
AND EVEN OVERSLEPT!
ARCHANGEL MICHAEL
HAD TO COME AND
WAKE US UP,
FOR FENCING CLASS!"

[GRUFF SIGH.]
"You two need to
spend some time
on your knees PRAYING
at night.....before your
REST.....!"

[GENTLE NOD.]
"Instead,
of all the.....TALKING between
the two of you.....
before falling ASLEEP."

(Briggund nods,
vigorously; his padded
neon-orange helmet*
bobs up and down.)
"YES, MY LORD!"

(Woefully anxious,
accompanying mumble
from orange cushion.)

(Briggund looks over
at his face-down buddy;
Sylvestor.....his halo is
now laying on the Gold
Floor beside him, its
bright glow only slightly
visibly faint in the
Glow from the Two
Thrones and the Gold
Floor Tile......is trying
to squint up at his buddy
and looking really
reverent at the same time.)

(Briggund, forgetting
about his scratchy
nose for a moment,
suddenly lets out a loud
ACHHHHOOO!)
"SORRY, YOUR LORD!
SORRY!
I COULDN'T HELP IT!"
(ACHHHOOOO!)
"IT'S THESE CUSHIONS, MY LORD!"
(ACHHHOOO!)
"THEY ALWAYS MAKE
MY NOSE SCRATCHY,
MY LORD!"

[GENTLE NOD.]
"Yes,
My Briggund.
Now, the TWO
of you......"

[GRUFF VOICE.]
"....Go back to CLASS!
AND, REMEMBER WHAT
I SAID! PRAY BEFORE
REST, MY CHILDREN!
PRAY!
AND....."

[GENTLY PATIENT VOICE.]
".....you will have better
SLEEP."
[GENTLY PATIENT
SMILE.]
"ALRIGHT?"

(Angelic voices:
neither melodious
nor soft; musical
nor hushed: one is
mumbled and terribly
off-key.)
"YES, MY LORD!
YES, MY LORD!"

[GRUFF NOD.]
"Now, GO!
BACK TO CLASS!
AND, REMEMBER
TO TELL ARCHANGEL
MICHAEL HOW MUCH
YOU APPRECIATE HIS
TIME TEACHING WITH YOU!"

(Two angelic voices:
neither low nor hushed,
nor melodious.)
"YES, FATHER!
YES, MY LORD!
YES, FATHER!
WE WILL!
WE WILL, FATHER!"

(Off-key, loud mumble
from bright orange pillow.)
"YOU BET!"

[GRUFF SIGH.]
*********************
Pray
without
ceasing.
[1 Thessalonians 5:17]


________________
*The helmet has an
oval hole at the top:
for the halo.)



See 'Facing Your Demons Part 3'.

Copyright 2011.

---

PLEASE ENCOURAGE AUTHOR BELOW LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE