God the Father was lost in the splendor of the erotic connection between Santa and Aphrodite.
So it took quite a while for the hundreds of tiny angels to get his attention. They had seen that the effort to save this man was going so well that it was time for them to go in and rescue the dead and dying angels inside.
Now they were tugging on God’s robe, tiny little tugs, showing impeccable respect toward him, yet expressing angelic urgency as to the timing of their entrance into the man’s body.
When the angels politely demanded his attention, God’s erection swiftly wilted.
“Yes, go,” he said softly, gesturing in a fashion that urged them onward.
In they sped, and in a trice, they came out with less speed, each carrying the body of an angel, many of them beyond life, three of them barely breathing.
God knew, of course, that many angels dedicated themselves to standing by a dying human being until only a corpse remained. Typically, the final breath flushed out all the angels who’d found their home inside the dead man or woman.
This was the first time God had been by during an even more harrowing operation.
Entering a living man.
Finding the survivors and those who hadn’t survived.
Hoping that they would not be similarly trapped.
And making their escape with their stricken angels held tight in their arms.
They gathered themselves to speed out of the Oval Office and head straight for heaven.
But God stopped them. “Let me see that one. Set her down upon my palm, gently.”
They at once obeyed.
Tears came into God’s eyes.
This one wasn’t one of the dead, but she was near death. With a light fingertip, he caressed her frail body. “You deserved better than this.”
The dying one, her eyes open, looked into God’s eyes, so pitiful and to be pitied. He felt the full force of her divine energy, still pulsing, still pulsating, but barely.
He felt her relief at being free of captivity, her imprisonment, and the neglect and scorn of he who had kept her confined and neglected, not once turning to her for strength to embrace human righteousness, never feeding her the respect, grace, and connectivity she deserved.
She was ready to embrace death, at peace already.
But he, goddammit, wasn’t ready to let her go.
He gave her over gently to her angelic escort, a precious vacancy now in his palm.
He softly closed his hand.
Never would he forget the look in that angel’s eyes.
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