2393. Angel of mercy|
© Bruce Goodman 9 April 2022
It was extraordinary. Drew was more than aware that he had died suddenly. He was sitting in his armchair early on a Friday morning. Next to his armchair was a little coffee table with his mug of coffee and a slice of marmalade on toast. He had just had his first bite of toast when next thing an angel was leading him towards the gates of Paradise.
What a lovely angel! So seraphic! So kind! The angel led Drew by the hand.
“We are heading towards the Gates,” said the angel. Drew could already feel the effects of Heaven emanating towards him.
“To quote Saint Paul,” said the angel, “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart the things that God has in store… You know the quotation I’m sure.”
“Of course I do,” said Drew.
“You realize,” said the angel, “that if you hadn’t put so much salt in your food and into cooking that you could have extended your life on earth by almost two years.”
Drew hung his head in shame.
“You realize,” said the angel, “that if you had been more careful to eat only organically grown vegetables that you could have extended your life on earth by two further years.”
Drew hung his head further in shame.
“You realize,” said the angel, “that if you had bought an electric car instead of that beat-up old bomb you drove around in you’d be going through that gate there into Paradise and not through this door here where there is an eternity of weeping and gnashing of teeth.”
“The old bomb was all I could afford,” said Drew.
With that the angel opened the door and flung Drew in.
“Now who is next on the list?” asked the angel looking at her clipboard.
“How Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez got that job as the angel I have no idea,” said Drew as he disappeared into the nothing world.
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