Short Stories

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The Lord
created me
at the
beginning
of His work,
the first
of His acts
of old.
[Proverbs 8:22]
***********************
(A big, huge angel,
not particularly handsome
or graceful, pokes his big
face inside the Throne Room Door.
His voice is neither musical nor
melodious. It's big and booming,
but not mean: more like the
bark of an over-sized, labrador puppy.)
"FATHER?"

[PATIENT VOICE.]
"Yes.
what is it,
Guardino."

(Guardino stands
at attention; his
sword is almost as
huge and shiny as
Archangel Michael's,
but it's never seen any
real battle.)
"FATHER,
SYLVESTOR AND
BRIGGUND ARE OUTSIDE!
THEY WISH TO SPEAK WITH YOU!"

[PATIENT FROWN.]
"Why aren't they in
Demon-Fencing Class,
right NOW? Archangel
Michael is taking time
off his regular duties,
just to TUTOR them!"

(Guardino, shifting a bit
on his big bare toes,
replies rather anxiously.)
"THEY PLAN TO, FATHER!
IT'S JUST THAT SYLVESTOR
FELL OFF HIS CLOUD, AGAIN!
WHILE HE WAS SLEEPING!"

[PATIENT SIGH.]
"Alright.
Show them in."

(Guardino pokes his
big nose out the
Throne Room Door.
He shouts: his big
booming voice full of
relief, and good nature.)
"COME ON IN,
SYLVESTOR!
BRIGGUND!
IT'S OKAY!
THE FATHER ISN'T MAD
WITH YOU!
YOU CAN COME ON IN!"

[PATIENT SIGH.]
[TURN TO HIS RIGHT.]

[GENTLE CHUCKLE.]

[PATIENT, ALBEIT STERN
FATHERLY VOICE.]
"Come in,
My angels."
[PAUSE.]
[FROWN.]
[PATIENT GAZE AT THE
TWO ANGELS WHO HAVE
JUST ENTERED THE
THRONE ROOM DOORWAY:
ONE IS SHORT AND PLUMP
WITH DARK CURLY HAIR;
THE OTHER IS MUCH TALLER
AND BIGGER WITH BLOND
FRIZZY HAIR, AND A LOT OF FRECKLES.
BOTH ARE STILL WEARING THEIR
ANGEL-SLEEPING-GOWNS, AND
LOOK AS THOUGH THEY HAVE
JUST WOKEN UP. THE SHORT
PLUMP ONE HAS A RATHER
WOEFUL, WORRIED LOOK ON
HIS PLUMP FACE.]
[PATIENT FROWN.]
"And, why aren't the
two of you in your
fencing-practice gear?
Shouldn't you have
been in class,
already?"

(Anxious, screechy voice.)
"WE'RE GOIN' TO,
OUR FATHER!"

"YEAH! WE'RE GOIN'
TO!"
(Freckled-face yawn.)
"OUR FATHER!"

[SIGH.]
"Come!"

(Both angels, in
their gauzy-sleeping-gowns
and wings still limp with sleep,
walk slowly to the kneeling
cushions before the Two Thrones,
and get down on the Gold Floor:
sitting cross-legged: yawning
widely.)

[GENTLY REBUKING VOICE.]
"Is this what Archangel Michael
is teaching you, My children....
about coming before the Thrones?"

(Both sleepy angels squint at
one another, cluelessly.)

[GENTLE CLEARING OF THE
THROAT.]

(Both angels' eyes open wide.
Then, they immediately scramble
about on the Kneeling-Floor-Cushions:
trying to get face down, gracefully,
onto the bright velvet pillows.
Sylvestor, the dark haired one,
closes his eyes and
immediately falls asleep.
He begins to snore. His buddy,
Briggund, speaks up.)
"PLEASE FORGIVE SYLVESTOR,
MY LORD! HE HARDLY SLEPT LAST NIGHT!"

[GENTLY PATIENT SMILE.]
"I understand,
Angel Briggund.
Did he have another bad dream,
last night?"

"UH, UH!
BUT.....HE SORT'A FELL OFF
HIS CLOUD,
MY LORD!"

[PATIENT PAUSE.]
"This is the third time,
this week,
Angel Briggund."

"Uh, uh....my LORD!
The third and a HALF time!
Two days ago HE WAS TAKING
a little... NAP, inbetween
Fencing Class and SINGING CLASS...
and he ALMOST fell off one 'a the
HARP-shaped-CLOUDS.. over by the Music CHOIR ROOM!"
(Briggund shakes his head. One of
the Throne Room birds flies over,
and begins to peck at his frizzy blond hair.)
"And, LAST NIGHT....Sylvestor FELL
right onto ANGEL DITTLEY'S CLOUD!
Praise my LORD, THAT Angel Dittley's
sort'a like a big pillow HIMSELF! BROKE
Sylvestor's FALL! SYLVESTOR could'a
gotten really HURT!"

(Loud snoring from the bright orange
velvet pillow on the floor.)

[PATIENTLY GENTLE FROWN.]
"Sylvestor would not have been
hurt, My child. He is an
angel."

(Woefully freckled face.)
"YEAH. I GUESS,
my LORD! But...You KNOW
that his wings don't WORK,
very WELL!"
(Woeful glance over at his
snoozing and snoring buddy.)
"WE'VE EVEN
CHANGED CLOUDS
TO SEE IF THAT WOULD
HELP, MY LORD! BUT,
IT HASN'T! IT HASN'T
NOT ONE BIT! ANGEL
DITTLEY SWEARS THAT
HE EVEN SAW POOR SYLVESTOR
CLOUD-WALKING IN HIS SLEEP
TWO NIGHTS AGO, MY LORD!
CLOUD-WALKING!"

[GRUFF, STERN FATHERLY VOICE.]
"ANGELS DO NOT SWEAR,
MY ANGEL BRIGGUND."

(Briggund reaches up to
pet the little Throne Room
bird that has settled down,
very comfortably, into his frizzy
nest of blond hair.)
"SORRY, FATHER!
I DIDN'T MEAN THAT ANGEL
DITTLEY SWORE! JUST THAT.....!"

[GENTLE NOD.]
"We understand,
Angel Briggund.
NOW.......have the
two of you been praying
before sleep at night,
like We told you?"

"SOR'TA! YA KNOW,
MY LORD, HOW SYLVESTOR
AND I LIKE TO TALK BEFORE
WE GO TO SLEEP!"

[GENTLE NOD.]

"WELL, BY THE TIME WE
START PRAYIN' WE'RE
BOTH HALF ASLEEP!
BUT, I ALWAYS TELL
SYLVESTOR TO HAVE
SWEET DREAMS, THOUGH!
ANGEL DITTLEY SAID THAT
SYLVESTOR SHOULD TRY
WALKIN' ABOUT THE
CLOUDS BEFORE HE GOES
TO BED! AND, DRINK A CUP 'A
WARM MILK!"

[GENTLE SMILE.]
[NOD.]
"How are your demon-fencing
classes going,
Angel Briggund?"

(Pause.)
(Another pause.)
"WELL! EH........"
(Briggund, whose face
is now turning into a
freckled-grimace:
turns to look down at
his sleeping, snoring
friend. Briggund's
usually loud voice
turns to a loud whisper:
he cups both of his big
freckled hands around
his mouth.)
"NOT TOO GOOD,
MY LORD! SYLVESTOR
GETS REALLY ANXIOUS
BEFORE CLASS! I DON'T
THINK HE LIKES DEMON-FENCING-PRACTICE,
MY LORD! HE SPENDS MOST
'A THE TIME TRIPPIN' OVER
HIS PRACTICE-SWORD AND
BUMPIN' HIS NOSE!"

[FATHER AND SON TURN
TO LOOK AT ONE ANOTHER.
THE FATHER GRUFFLY SIGHS.]
"We will have a talk with
your teacher,
Angel Briggund."

(Freckled pause.)
"Well........eh..........."

[GRUFF FATHERLY VOICE.]
"Speak up, Angel Briggund!
What IS IT!"

(Freckled glance away from
the Thrones: freckled nose
toward the Gold Floor. The
little bird now dozing in
Briggund's nest of frizzy blond hair,
becomes a little startled and
almost falls out. Briggund
reaches up again, to give
it a comforting pet.)
"WELL.....EH.......
NOW, YOU KNOW,
FATHER, THAT WE LOVE
ARCHANGEL MICHAEL!
WE REALLY DO!"

[GENTLE VOICE.]
"Yes,
My child?"

(Freckled sniff.)
"WELL.........
ARCHANGEL MICHAEL
IS KIND'A STRICT!"
HE MAKES US DO EACH
FENCING-MOVE ABOUT
TEN OR TWENTY TIMES!
TILL SYLVESTOR AND
I GET IT REALLY RIGHT!
AND, HE MAKES LOTS 'A
FIGHTING NOISES,
FATHER! LIKE, GROWLS
AND SPITS, AND YELLS
AND SHOUTS! HE PRETENDS
LIKE HE'S ONE 'A THE DEMONS!"

[GENTLE SMILE.]

(Woefully freckled grimace.)
"SCARES POOR SYLVESTOR
OUT'A HIS WINGS!"

[GRUFF FATHERLY SIGH.]

(Briggund looks woefully
down at his sleeping,
Fighting-Angel buddy;
his freckled face screws
up, as if he's about to cry.)

(Another snorty-snore
can be heard from the
bright orange cushion on
the Gold Floor.)

(Briggund squints up
rather woefully,
at the Two Thrones.
With his freckled face,
face-down, he looks like
he's doing a clumsy push-up.)
"LORD? WE WERE KIND'A
BOTH WONDERING IF......"

[GRUFF FATHERLY VOICE.]
"What IS IT,
Angel BRIGGUND?
GIRD YOUR LOINS AND
BE AN ANGEL!"

(Briggund rubs his freckled
nose. The velvet kneeling-
floor-cushions always make
him feel sneezy.)
"WELL........"
(Sniff.)
(Sniff.)
"IF WE COULD QUIT,
FATHER!"

[GRUFF, STERN VOICE.]
"QUIT!
QUIT?"

[GENTLE CHUCKLE FROM THE
RIGHT SIDE OF THE THRONE.]

(Freckled nod.)
"YES, FATHER!
YES, MY LORD!
COULDN'T WE JUST
GET A TRANSFER OR
SOMETHIN'? TO THE
ZOO-GUARDS-SQUADRON, OR SOMETHIN'?
SYLVESTOR WOULD REALLY
LIKE THAT! AND DIRTY-OLE-DARTH
DEMON CAN JUST KEEP SYLVESTOR'S
SWORD! THE ONE HE STOLE!
HE CAN JUST KEEP IT!"

[GRUFF FATHERLY SHOUT.]
"ABSOLUTELY NOT!"

(A sudden loud snort can be heard
from the bright orange velvet pillow
on the Gold Tiled Floor; a dark curly
mop of hair rolls about, on the orange
pillow, and a bulbous-nose-face
can be seen: sleepy-and-squinty-
eyed, mouth slightly open, and
limp halo askew. The dark curly
head turns to squint sleepily up
at Angel Briggund, who continues
speaking unabashed.)
"AW, F....A....T....H....E....R!
P....L.....E.....A....S.....E.?"

[GRUFFLY STERN FATHERLY VOICE.]
"Absolutely not,
ANGEL BRIGGUND!
You two need to get in SHAPE
for the Coming Day of the LORD!"

(Freckly-woeful face.)
"BUT, WE'VE ALREADY BEEN
TO BOWL-THROWING CLASS,
FATHER! I DON'T KNOW ABOUT
SYLVESTOR, BUT I THINK I
COULD TOSS A BOWL PRETTY GOOD,
DOWN AT EARTH! IF IT WAS A
BOWL 'A RADISHES THAT IS!
THAT'S WHAT WE USED IN PRACTICE
CLASS: RADISHES!"
AND.......BOWLS 'A GREEN JELLO!"

[GENTLE CHUCKLING FROM
THE THRONE
TO THE RIGHT.]

[GRUFFLY STERN FATHERLY FROWN.]
[POINTING DOWN,
RATHER STERNLY,
AT THE TWO CUSHIONS ON THE
GOLD THRONE ROOM FLOOR: ONE
BRIGHT ORANGE VELVET AND THE
OTHER BRIGHT PURPLE WITH LITTLE
GOLDEN BALLS.]
"Now LOOK, you two:
like it or not.....you are both
part of the Angelic Fighting-Host!
If We had wanted you to be Guards
at the Heavenly-Zoo, that's where
We would have ASSIGNED you!"

(Freckled whine.)
"BUT, ANGEL DITTLEY'S A GUARD
THERE, FATHER! AND, HE WORKS
REALLY HARD THERE! HONEST!
SOMETIMES, HE'S GOTTA SHEPHERD
ONE'A THE BABY-SHEEP BACK TO HIS
ENCLOSURE! IT CAN GET PRETTY ROUGH!"

[GRUFF FATHERLY SIGH.]
"Now.....you two go back to your
clouds, for lunch. And, some rest.
We're going to have a talk with
Archangel Michael about some
wing-strengthening excercises
for the two of you: perhaps,
some weight-lifting or SOMETHING."

(Sudden freckled-grimace.)

(Soft-snoring from the orange velvet pillow.)

[GENTLE VOICE FROM THE RIGHT THRONE.]
"Perhaps.....Father,
We should consider .....
getting them a personal
wing-WEIGHT-trainer."

[GRUFFLY IMPATIENT SIGH.]
"THAT is what Archangel MICHAEL is FOR!"

(Freckly loud whine.)
"YEAH, BUT HE'S WAY TOO STRICT
FATHER! I MEAN.....LORD! WE NEED
SOMEBODY A LOT EASIER! ARCHANGEL
MICHAEL'S TOO HARD! HE'S REALLY
TOUGH ON US! DOESN'T LET US
CHEW GUM WHILE WE'RE PRACTICING!
AND, HE SPEAKS IN THIS REALLY ANGELIC LANGUAGE!
AND, HE'S PUT BOTH A' US ON A DANIEL-DIET*!
A DANIEL-DIET, MY LORD! IT'S ALL VEGGIES
AND NUTS, AND STUFF! NO HEAVENLY-ROCKY-ROAD ICE CREAM!
NO CHERUB-CHEESE-CHEETOS! OR SERAPHIN-SPAGHETTI!"

[GRUFF, STERN FATHERLY VOICE.]
"GOOD! Now, that is IT! BOTH of
you get back to your CLOUDS, for
the AFTERNOON! AND, PRAY!
SIT UP WHILE YOU PRAY SO THAT
YOU DON'T FALL INTO TEMPTATION,
AND FALL ASLEEP!"

[GENTLE VOICE.]
"Or.....
fall off your CLOUDS........"

"YES, MY LORD!"
(Briggund, using a big right
bare toe, leans over and gives
Angel Sylvestor a squiggled-toed-
nudge. Sylvestor opens his big
brown eyes again, and opens his mouth
in a big wide yawn. Then he yawns more
loudly, again. And........again. Then,
without saying a word, he falls back down
on his orange-kneeling-pillow and closes
his eyes, once more: snuggling under both
his wings, like a big plump farm pigeon.)

"Should I wake him UP,
FATHER? MAYBE, HE SHOULDN'T
SLEEP ON ANY MORE CLOUDS,
TODAY!"

[GRUFF SIGH.]

[GENTLE VOICE FROM THE RIGHT.]
"Very well. Sylvestor can stay Here,
for the afternoon........he will get
some needed Healing from his
bad dreams."

"THANK YOU, LORD!
THANK YOU! I'LL COME GET HIM,
JUST IN TIME FOR DINNER....OKAY?
IS THAT OKAY? IS THAT OKAY,
MY L...O....R....D?"

[GENTLE NOD.]
"Yes,
My Angel Briggund."

[GRUFF FATHERLY SHAKE OF THE HEAD.]
[FROWN.]
"But go tell Archangel Michael, first,
that you are very SORRY...that both
of you couldn't make class this morning....
ALRIGHT?"

(Slightly freckled grimace.)
"OKAY! But, can I first get some
LUNCH?"

[GRUFF VOICE.]
"NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!
THIS IS PART OF YOUR
FIGHTERS' TRAINING,
ANGEL BRIGGUND!
A FIGHTING-ANGEL
ALWAYS PUTS
HIS WARRIORS' DUTY, FIRST!"

(Freckled scrowl.)
"YEAH, BUT.........."
(Woeful scrowl.)
".....then, ARCHANGEL MICHAEL's
gonna INSIST I HAVE LUNCH...
IN THE PRACTICE ROOM!
THAT DANIEL-DIET STUFF, AGAIN!
ALTHOUGH HE NEVER EATS, HIMSELF**!
UH-UH! MICHAEL SAYS THE ONLY
NOURISHMENT ANY FIGHTER-ANGEL
NEEDS IS HIS WORSHIP-TIME!"

[GRUFF FATHERLY NOD.]
[FROWN.]
"GOOD! EXCELLENT!
THAT'S A VERY GOOD IDEA!
GO BACK AND EAT THERE:
ONLY AFTER YOU APOLOGIZE
TO MICHAEL! THAT'S AN ORDER!"

(Freckly woeful-frown.)
(Whine.)
"YEAH, BUT THEN HE'S GONNA
INSIST THAT I STAY AFTER LUNCH
TO DO FIGHTERS-PRAYER-WORSHIP
HOUR WITH HIM! AND, THAT'S ONLY
JUST THE NAME OF IT! IT'S REALLY
MUCH LONGER THAN AN HOUR!"

[GENTLE CHUCKLE.]

[GRUFF, STERN FATHERLY VOICE.]
"EXCELLENT!
NOW, GO!
AND, BE SURE TO ASK ARCHANGEL MICHAEL
TO GIVE YOU SOME WEIGHTS
TO TAKE BACK TO YOUR CLOUD,
SO YOU CAN PRACTICE WING-LIFTING
AT NIGHT BEFORE YOU GO TO BED!"

(Freckled slump.)
"Yeah........O....K...A....Y!"

[GENTLE CLEARING OF THE THROAT.]

(Squint.)
(Pause.)
"OKAY, FATHER!
OKAY! THAT SOUNDS
LIKE A REALLY GOOD IDEA,
MY FATHER! I LOVE YOU,
MY FATHER!"

[GENTLE SMILE.]
[GENTLE CHUCKLE.]
********************************
Listen
to advice,
and
accept
instruction,
that
you may gain
wisdom
for
the future.
[Proverbs 19:20]

__________________________
*[Book of Daniel 1:12-16.]
When Daniel was first brought
to Babylon, he refused to eat
the rich foods of the Babylonians.
Instead, he insisted on eating
vegetables, fruit and only drinking water.
**Angels do not need to eat;
they can if they want to, though;
it's like humans not really needing
to use the text-feature of their
cell phone. They don't have to,
but if they enjoy using it,
they can.


Copyright 2011.

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