Conversations with the Light Bearer (Religious Satire)

CHAPTER II - Death pays a visit

"Why?" I scratched my head. "Because that little fiasco you mustered was child's play compared to the Great Flood, where not only children died, but the rest of the world drowned with His pride."

The billowing curtains settled, the wind silent as a whisper. "Yes. I suppose what He did was far more . . . what's the term? Oh, yes—epic."

I scratched my chin. "Epic?" I always wondered if these so called 'angels' had any morality in them. "So tell me, Anubis, if we're talking about Egypt and all. Did you enjoy it? Did you take pleasure in reaping the life of every First Born from their bodies?"

The chair moved an inch, sending a piercing echo. "We do what we are commanded of. To obey is our duty, to trust is our faith."

"Blind obedience, if you ask me." I snickered. "And from whom? That self-absorbed, arrogant, murderous Father you never see? Or that barbarian commanding His army?"

Azrael's voice grew deeper, multiplied ten folds as if he was possessed by a legion of demons. "Thou shall not take the name of the Lord God in vain!"

The cold draft returned, now stronger, and the light bulb flickered incessantly. "Calm down, angel. No need for the theatrics." I said calmly, sauntering towards the shelf where my midnight snack was hidden. "Chocolates?"

And then his voice returned to normal. "Oh, no, thank you. We angels do not eat, but I guess you already know that."

These angels were always a dupe when it came to proper manners and etiquette. They just couldn't resist it. When one of them went apocalyptic as Azrael did, all you need was to offer them a seat, a snack, or anything that would require them to show their gratitude; a bunch of sissies, if you ask me. I can only think of one who had no decorum, no manners at all—that barbarian. Oh, how I despise him.

"Oh, silly me. Sometimes I just get so famished in the middle of the night. Pity though, you can't taste it. I have plenty to share. I have some roasted peanuts, Gummy Bears, some Hershey, Crunch, and some Oreo."

"What does it taste like?" he said, with a tone of interest.

"How would you know? You haven't tasted anything else before."

Azrael chuckled. "I suppose you're right."

I strolled towards him, pulling another chair as I placed the treats on the table.

"These bears... They have so many colors!" the angel exclaimed, like a kid on trick-or-treat.

I nodded. "Yes, they do come in delectable saturations."

The green bear began to float, then the yellow, then the orange. "Dear God! I have never seen such marvelous creatures!"

Facepalm. Yes, facepalm. Azrael, the Angel of Death, the Grim Reaper, is officially a dupe. "Uhm, they're not actually real—"

"Can I keep them?"

"Say what?"

"Can I keep them?"

"But you can't eat them."

"Eat them? Of course not!" the angel said, his voice filled with apparent glee. "Why would I? They're fascinating!"

I started on the Oreo. "Sure, sure. By all means, take the whole bag."

"Truly? Are you certain?"

"Yes. Don't worry. I can always buy a pack down at 7/11."

The poor Gummy Bears levitated and went straight back to the plastic bag, then in a sudden twist, they were gone. "Thank you, Samael. Err... I mean Vincent. Your good deeds will not go unrewarded."

"Really, now? A chance in Heaven, perhaps?"

The Angel of Death coughed, clearly with intent. "Err... Now that you mention it..."

I laughed hard. "Just playing with you, angel. Not really hoping for that." I took a sip at the milk. "Especially with mighty Thor around."

"Sir Michael? Despite what he says, I think your brother misses you."

"Delight in your thought, angel," I said, moving on to the Crunch, "for whatever you may think of him, he will always be what he is—a moronic, bloodthirsty warmonger."

"But he is still your brother."

"Hah! Brother?" I snickered. "Not you recall his sin against me?"

Azrael paused, then resumed, "But... But you broke the Law. You—"

The taste of crackling rice and chocolate exploded in my mouth. "Fine. Let us not dwell on events long past. What is it you came for again?"

"Oh, yes. Uhm..."

I licked the chocolate off my fingers. "Yes?"

"Have other spirits passed your quarters?"

Visits? Other spirits? Something odd was certainly afoot. "No. You're the first, actually, in quite a long while. The last was another exile, Beelzebub, though he was just inviting me to another company outing."

"Swimming?"

Last were the peanuts. I always saved them for last. "Yes. Three days, two nights."

"Wonderful."

For a while, he paused; the kind where one was lost on his next words.

"Ehem!" I cleared my throat. "You were saying?"

"The War."

With a raised eyebrow, a scooped another handful of nuts. "What about it?"

"It's coming."

I kept chewing. "Hmm... Is that so? Has it finally come to that?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so." Azrael sounded serious. If Heaven itself had sent the Angel of Death to court me, then it could only mean one thing.

Swallowing hard, I asked the question I already knew the answer to. "And why, for all reasons, are you telling me this?"

The angel paused, then said, "Well, with your son Mammon ruling Hell in your stead, the Almighty Father... the Heavenly Father asked me... to ask you..." If there's anything I hate more than bullcrap, it's constipated bullcrap. Even Death couldn't say it straight to my face.

I grinned to my delight. "Well, go on now. Spit it out."

Finally he managed to let it all out. "Father wants you to join us. God wants you to join us."

****

"About midnight I will go throughout Egypt. Every firstborn in Egypt will die, from the firstborn son of Pharaoh, who sits on the throne, to the firstborn of the slave girl, who is at her hand mill, and all the firstborn of the cattle as well. There will be loud wailing throughout Egypt—worse than there has ever been or ever will be again."

—Exodus 11:4–6