If a male angel lived in a heavenly palace and looked into his sleeping cubicle in the morning after returning home from his early session in the clouds to be with his little angel offspring and read Acts to them, and his angelic wife was lying on the bed doing dumbbell bench presses in the nude with an NPR show playing lightly on the radio, then that male angel would know that there will come days better than those gone before (before the disruption of the world), and that it may be one of those today as the winged Being wafted him by God now stretches the hamstrings in the backs of her legs and by some miracle has a celestial sort of side meat already sizzled from the stove and cuddled in a “napkin sandwich” to remove all the hellish earth-grease from it.
“Even so,” says the celestial messenger to a compatriot at the commissary, “come quickly Lord Jesus.”
© 2006 by Martin Zender
