Short Stories

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The lot is cast into the lap,
but the decision is wholly
from the Lord.
[Proverbs 16:33]
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Angel Dittley was on his lunch break, and was fingering the big, wrapped nut-brownie in his angel-gown pocket. He had been looking forward to it, all morning. He was in a quandry though, because the sign in the classroom read: NO EATING ALLOWED IN THE FENCING PRACTICE AREA. Dittley had already eaten his tuna sandwich on the way over from the Heavenly-Zoo, where he was one of the Zoo-Angels. His official job title was 'Guard', but he was really there just to pet the animals and love them, and to welcome any newcomers from Earth (the four-footed ones, that is). The newcomers were often a bit disoriented and upset, from their time down on sinful-Earth. It was the Zoo-Guards' job to comfort them, pet them, and make sure that they were introduced to their new friends. Often, Dittley would simply pick up the poor lion (or tiger, or bear) and carry him around on his big, soft shoulders for a day or two, or three......until the nervous critter finally calmed down. Lots of animals roomed freely in Heaven; the Zoo was for the ones who had been particularly mistreated or abused, or had died in a terrible way down on Earth; these beloved creatures were most comfortable in a more structured, guarded environment. The Heavenly-Zoo wasn't for people; it was more like a Heavenly critter-sanctuary.

What should he do? Angel Dittley had come to give support for his friends, Sylvestor and Briggund, while they were having to take Demon-Fencing classes with Archangel Michael*. But, it was difficult for Dittley to sit down on a bench, ANYWHERE, and not be munching on something. It was FUN... at the Zoo; if he was carrying a big brown-bear on his shoulders, the bear would nose whatever he was eating: slurping his long black tongue over it, until both of them were covered in slurpy-drool. But, HERE............

Dittley squinted up at the sign, once more. He frowned a bit: fingering the soft brownie-package in his gown-pocket. Oh, well. He would just have to wait, till he got back to work.

Dittley squirmed a bit; the benches in the fencing classroom weren't particularly comfortable. They were hard and cold: not at all like the ones at the Zoo. The Zoo couches were more for curling up, and going to sleep. Dittley yawned.....and then, yawned again. He wanted to just LEAVE, but......he had PROMISED Sylvestor that he'd come by, on his lunch-break! Angel Dittley's sweet plump face turned downward in a sorrowful frown; he gave the deep concerned sigh, of a good friend. Poor SYLVESTOR.

"ON GUARD!"
Archangel Michael shouted, in his heavily-accented, sternly-sounding voice. He was holding out a big practice-sword that appeared to light up, with bright neon-lights, every time it touched one of his opponents. On the side of the sword were printed in big letters: "PRACTICE USE ONLY". At the moment, it was lighting up a lot.

"SYLVESTOR! MOVE TO YOUR RIGHT,
MORE! MOVE TO YOUR .......RIGHT!" Briggund was standing, just outside the fencing-area, in all his practice-gear, and cupping his big gloved hands: yelling loudly.

"ANGEL BRIGGUND! QUIET DOWN! YOU ARE DISTRACTING HIM! YOU ARE A WARRIOR**! ACT LIKE ONE! NOW, GO OVER AND FINISH YOUR WING-WEIGHT-LIFTING EXERCISES!" Archangel Michael paused for a scary moment: removing his fencing mask, and holding his extra-large-size-sword in a perfect Warrior-Angel standing-postion, he gave a stern rebuke to the big, blond, frizzy-haired, freckled-faced angel that was standing along the side lines. The Archangel's face was solemn, high-cheek boned, dark in skin hue, and extraordinarily handsome: his long dark tendrils lay along his huge neon-colored fencing shield, his bare muscular arms were bulging out of his angel-fencing-frock, and his magnificent gold-tipped, rainbow colored wings were pulled back in a perfect fighting-stance. As always, his huge and beautiful bare feet were unshod. Both of his students wore neon-colored protective fencing sandals.

Dittley, biting on his lower lip, stared up at the huge Archangel from the safety of his hard, uncomfortable bench. He fingered the brownie-package, again. Maybe, he could just step out for a minute, and take a bite. But......then again.....maybe, if HE got up right now, Archangel Michael would think that HE was distracting Sylvestor, too! Dittley
glanced nervously over at Briggund. His big blond friend had slumped, resignedly, over to the weight benches, and was doing a really clumsy wing-weight-lifting-exercise. It looked real
hard; Dittley reached up to feel one of his own sand-colored wings; it was plump, limp, slightly puffed-out, and several of its dusty, manure-smelling feathers had critter-bite-marks on them. Oh, well.

"CAN I STOP NOW, ARCHANGEL MICHAEL? (Pant. Pant.) IT'S PAST LUNCH TIME!" Sylvestor spoke in rather muffled tones through his neon-colored fencing mask; he was breathing heavily, and had a line of sweat along his angelic brow; his chest-shield was all lit-up, and he was trying desperately to hold out his extra-small size practice-sword at the same fighting stance as his Mighty Warrior-teacher.

"Of COURSE!" (Heavily-accented, sternly-sounding voice.) "In ten MINUTES, we shall STOP! I have provided BOTH OF YOU with a Warriors-LUNCH! The Diet of DANIEL***! FRUITS, AND WATER, AND VEGETABLES!!" (Solemn pause.) "THEN, WE SHALL DEVOTE AN HOUR,
AT LEAST... TO WARRIOR-PRAYER AND WORSHIP!"

(A muffled moan eminated from behind Sylvestor's neon mask. Another soft moan came from the wing-weight-lifting corner. A soft thudding sound accompanied the freckle-faced moan.)

Dittley put his plump hand over his mouth: yawning widely. He was feeling awfully groggy. All this talk of warrior-stuff was making him really sleepy. Ten minutes more, and he'd be all curled up, underneath the hard stone bench: fast asleep, and snoring very loudly. He had better step outside quietly, and finish his lunch brownie over in the Newcomers-Corner, at the lions' cave-and-mountain-pasture area, over at the Zoo. Then, cuddling one of the roughly-purring lions in his big plump lap, he could take an afternoon's snooze under one the big shady trees that grew so abundantly around the lion-pasture. The Heavenly-air, out there, smelled sweetly of summer's grass, rich-black farmland soil, and the manure scent of big healthy critters.

Tip-toeing, as best he could on his big plump bare feet, Dittley quietly stepped out of the exit door of the Fencing-Practice Room. On his way out, though, he stopped for a moment beside the pile of his friends' gymnastic bags and practice-sword sheaths......and, slipped two extra nut-brownie packages underneath each sword-holder.

The end.
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A worker's appetite works for him,
his mouth urges him on.
[Proverbs 16:26]
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*Read 'Facing Your Demons' 1-4,
'Tough Assignment for the Medieval Knight',
and 'Falling Off Your Cloud'.
**In the Heavenly Realm,
all Warrior-Angels have a Fighting Buddy:
to look after one another, and take their
friend to The Father, in time of trouble.
Sylvestor and Briggund are Fighting Buddies.
In the Earthly realm, all humans have a
Fighting-Buddy, too. Theirs is Christ Jesus.
***The Book of Daniel 1:12-16.

Copyright 2011.

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