“Come in!” Jollyrei looked up at the sound of the chimes to see who craved admission to his inner sanctum.
“Beg your pardon, Lord Jollyrei, Your Magnificence, but His Mighty Eminence the Most High Archangel Bobinder bade me to present you with his compliments, and to ask you to call on him when you have a moment.” Wragg shuffled uneasily, eyes downwards, lest he be dazzled by the aura of the vastly superior Angelus Mortis.
Jollyrei fluttered his wings with irritation. In the vastness of Eternity, ‘when you have a moment’ meant ‘right now this instant’. But since Bobinder was the Executive Chief Operating Angel, answerable only to the Boss Himself, Jollyrei had no option to comply.
“Thank you, Wragg. That’ll be all.” Wragg fluttered off back to his harp-tuning duties, and Jollyrei slid the sign on the golden door that said ‘Director of Death And Eternal Destiny’ over to ‘out’. He beat his mighty wings and began the ascent towards Upper Heaven.
Bobinder, unlike himself, had a Personal Assistant, an angel by the name of Messaline. If Jollyrei was being honest (and being an Archangel he was always that), he would have admitted that part of the reason for his speedy response to Bobinder’s summons was that it would give him a chance to chat up Messaline.
Messaline, so it was said, had been an outstandingly beautiful mortal, but now she was an angel she was truly one of the Seven Wonders of the Universe. Any entity, from the deity on down to the lowliest demon in the Boiler Room downstairs, if prompted by the question ‘who is the most beautiful angel in Heaven?’ would unhesitatingly respond, “Oh, that’s Messaline, Bob’s PA”. She had looks that would melt the heart of a statue, and, when she spoke, her soft lilting French accent made you feel as though your own personal choir was singing into your ear.
“Lord Jollyrei! What a pleasure it is to see you!” she sang. Jollyrei was grateful for his eternal life, a mortal could not have stood that, but would have dropped dead from sheer pleasure on the spot. For that very reason, Messaline was banned from going anyway near any planet in the universe that had mortal life on it.
“The pleasure, Madame, is entirely mine.” Jollyrei bent and kissed her extended hand. His lips tingled, and, when he involuntarily licked them, he could taste the sweetest honey. Unfortunately, Messaline had withdrawn her hand, so the opportunity to repeat the experience was denied him, leaving him with no option but to say what was on his mind.
“I don’t suppose you’re free for dinner tonight? I can get a table for two at The Golden Platter?”
“I am very sorry, but my Lord Bobinder does not permit me much leisure time…”
‘I bet he doesn’t,’ sulked Jollyrei. Aloud, he said, “I understand that His Mighty Eminence wishes to see me?”
Messaline assumed an attitude of prayer. Who needs intercoms in Heaven? Presently she sang, “Please go in, Your Lordship!”
Reluctantly, Jollyrei dragged himself away from Messaline, and strolled into Bob’s office.
“Hi Bob! How’s things?” Fortunately, communication was a little more relaxed among the archangels.
“Great, thanks Jollyrei! There’s a bit of trouble over on Siluria, but otherwise all is calm, all is bright. And how’s the Death and Eternal Destiny department? Calmed down after the riot last week?”
Jollyrei grinned. A whole group of ‘Martyrs’, each expecting to be assigned seven Vestal Virgins, had not taken their eternal assignment to the boiler room particularly well. “It would make life easier for my frontline angels if only mortal priests wouldn’t fill their followers’ minds with such…” he paused, struggling to find a word suitable for a conversation between archangels.
“Bullshit?” Bob had no such scruples.
“As you mention it, Bob, I can’t think of a better word. But Eulalia, on the sorting desk, and Apostate and Madiosi, the Gatekeepers, are more than equal to the challenge. Firm but polite. They don’t stand for any nonsense.”
“It’s good to have the Pearly Gates in such capable hands,” agreed Bob. “Anyhow, I have a favour to ask.”
“Fire away!”
“There’s another planet that needs saving, I’m afraid. Sol 3. They call it ‘Earth’”
“That rings a bell, I think Wragg comes from there. So does Barb.”
“Barb? Well, that might explain why it needs saving.”
“Is it the same routine as usual? Being born as a mortal, living in poverty, then crucifixion and resurrection? I can’t spare any angels for that, I’m afraid. There’s an earthquake due on Cardoggan IV next Friday.”
“There’ll be nuclear war on Siluria, too, the way things are going,” grunted Bob. “No, nothing like that. The Boss has that covered. I just need a Heavenly Choir to announce the birth.”
Jollyrei was delighted. If there was one thing he loved, it was a spot of choral music. “Oh, that’s fine, Bob. I’m happy to help. I’ll take Wragg and Barb with me, they’ll know the way. I’ll do bass, Barb can sing soprano, and Wragg tenor. Wragg can accompany us on his harp. Name the time and place, and we’ll be there!”
“Overnight on December 24th, Bethlehem. Thanks Jollyrei!”
To be continued
“Beg your pardon, Lord Jollyrei, Your Magnificence, but His Mighty Eminence the Most High Archangel Bobinder bade me to present you with his compliments, and to ask you to call on him when you have a moment.” Wragg shuffled uneasily, eyes downwards, lest he be dazzled by the aura of the vastly superior Angelus Mortis.
Jollyrei fluttered his wings with irritation. In the vastness of Eternity, ‘when you have a moment’ meant ‘right now this instant’. But since Bobinder was the Executive Chief Operating Angel, answerable only to the Boss Himself, Jollyrei had no option to comply.
“Thank you, Wragg. That’ll be all.” Wragg fluttered off back to his harp-tuning duties, and Jollyrei slid the sign on the golden door that said ‘Director of Death And Eternal Destiny’ over to ‘out’. He beat his mighty wings and began the ascent towards Upper Heaven.
Bobinder, unlike himself, had a Personal Assistant, an angel by the name of Messaline. If Jollyrei was being honest (and being an Archangel he was always that), he would have admitted that part of the reason for his speedy response to Bobinder’s summons was that it would give him a chance to chat up Messaline.
Messaline, so it was said, had been an outstandingly beautiful mortal, but now she was an angel she was truly one of the Seven Wonders of the Universe. Any entity, from the deity on down to the lowliest demon in the Boiler Room downstairs, if prompted by the question ‘who is the most beautiful angel in Heaven?’ would unhesitatingly respond, “Oh, that’s Messaline, Bob’s PA”. She had looks that would melt the heart of a statue, and, when she spoke, her soft lilting French accent made you feel as though your own personal choir was singing into your ear.
“Lord Jollyrei! What a pleasure it is to see you!” she sang. Jollyrei was grateful for his eternal life, a mortal could not have stood that, but would have dropped dead from sheer pleasure on the spot. For that very reason, Messaline was banned from going anyway near any planet in the universe that had mortal life on it.
“The pleasure, Madame, is entirely mine.” Jollyrei bent and kissed her extended hand. His lips tingled, and, when he involuntarily licked them, he could taste the sweetest honey. Unfortunately, Messaline had withdrawn her hand, so the opportunity to repeat the experience was denied him, leaving him with no option but to say what was on his mind.
“I don’t suppose you’re free for dinner tonight? I can get a table for two at The Golden Platter?”
“I am very sorry, but my Lord Bobinder does not permit me much leisure time…”
‘I bet he doesn’t,’ sulked Jollyrei. Aloud, he said, “I understand that His Mighty Eminence wishes to see me?”
Messaline assumed an attitude of prayer. Who needs intercoms in Heaven? Presently she sang, “Please go in, Your Lordship!”
Reluctantly, Jollyrei dragged himself away from Messaline, and strolled into Bob’s office.
“Hi Bob! How’s things?” Fortunately, communication was a little more relaxed among the archangels.
“Great, thanks Jollyrei! There’s a bit of trouble over on Siluria, but otherwise all is calm, all is bright. And how’s the Death and Eternal Destiny department? Calmed down after the riot last week?”
Jollyrei grinned. A whole group of ‘Martyrs’, each expecting to be assigned seven Vestal Virgins, had not taken their eternal assignment to the boiler room particularly well. “It would make life easier for my frontline angels if only mortal priests wouldn’t fill their followers’ minds with such…” he paused, struggling to find a word suitable for a conversation between archangels.
“Bullshit?” Bob had no such scruples.
“As you mention it, Bob, I can’t think of a better word. But Eulalia, on the sorting desk, and Apostate and Madiosi, the Gatekeepers, are more than equal to the challenge. Firm but polite. They don’t stand for any nonsense.”
“It’s good to have the Pearly Gates in such capable hands,” agreed Bob. “Anyhow, I have a favour to ask.”
“Fire away!”
“There’s another planet that needs saving, I’m afraid. Sol 3. They call it ‘Earth’”
“That rings a bell, I think Wragg comes from there. So does Barb.”
“Barb? Well, that might explain why it needs saving.”
“Is it the same routine as usual? Being born as a mortal, living in poverty, then crucifixion and resurrection? I can’t spare any angels for that, I’m afraid. There’s an earthquake due on Cardoggan IV next Friday.”
“There’ll be nuclear war on Siluria, too, the way things are going,” grunted Bob. “No, nothing like that. The Boss has that covered. I just need a Heavenly Choir to announce the birth.”
Jollyrei was delighted. If there was one thing he loved, it was a spot of choral music. “Oh, that’s fine, Bob. I’m happy to help. I’ll take Wragg and Barb with me, they’ll know the way. I’ll do bass, Barb can sing soprano, and Wragg tenor. Wragg can accompany us on his harp. Name the time and place, and we’ll be there!”
“Overnight on December 24th, Bethlehem. Thanks Jollyrei!”
To be continued
