Thanks… But I’ll walk — or slide?
It’s God’s creation. An homage to that creep Bosch. …I swear heaven is joyless for him without seeing people in his hells being tortured. On wooden panels that folded open. …How stupid is the triptych?
Anyway, you can’t see it as it is, as with all things. Humans cannot experience his creation on its terms. …Did you not get the physics speech from Peter?
I did. Jesus isn’t a particle and doesn’t wave or whatever.
God forgives, human. That is not my function. …It’s not personal or even that I’m angry–
–I just really wish I had my sword.
Can you kill me?
If God wills it, you die. Whatever that is to God, to you. …And the sword keeps people nice and quiet. The chances of it being me who hears the first not-asinine words… I love that sword…
You’re terrifying for an angel. I should have pissed myself sooo many times, but I don’t…
You didn’t want to.
I have to want something to happen for it to–
[MICHAEL SMACKS THE MAN ON THE BACK OF HIS HEAD WITH AN UPWARD MOTION.]
It was the shortest answer. …Just the best one, really, considering.
I need help considering why everyoneis getting in. I swear I saw a Russian rising up…
Just hop on my back. …The small of the back, I’m sure I’ll need my wings.
But they can’t possibly–
All things are possible in him. Do what I said [aside] you stupid every-phobe. If you idiots didn’t… Humans… God help me… Humans.
…Let’s see, Michael is the angel for… You were the guy who–
I am God’s perfect justice.
Ah! Motherfu— Rrrrr! That freaking hurt!
Yes. The wings were necessary.
…Funny. Angels have jokes.. Who would’ve thought?
Not a single human.
A rhetorical question is asked and not to be answered. …Perfect summation of humanity!
Fuck you and be useful–
You’re riding on my back as I fly you into heaven you stupid prick!
Yeah, so we’re going to Jesus. And if he’s totally cool with everything, YHVH doesn’t punish anyone, even atheists, and I thought the only unpardonable–
Lord, help me not hit him again, and pop his skull like… Well there’s nothing like it, Samael testifies. …Holy! Holy! Holy! is the Lord! Yes Jesus, I feel much better!
Ahhhhhh! Fucking shit!
[THE ANGEL’S HEAD IGNITES LIKE A MATCHSTICK’S. THE MAN’S EVERY MUSCLE BECOMES AS SLACK AS HIS JAW. HE DROPS FROM HIS ANGELIC TRANSPORTATION LIKE A MILLSTONE. MICHAEL’S VISAGE WAS BLISS RENDERED IN ASH, RAKED OFF WITH A HAND WHILE CATCHING THE MAN, AND DROPPING HIM IN HEAVEN PROPER (IF FROM WAIST-HEIGHT, A CLOUD OF ASH RISING AS A PERFECT SPHERE, WHITE-HOT LIGHT MAKING THE CARBON FLAKES SEEM A SWARM OF TERRIBLE, AGGRAVATED INSECTS HOLDING FORMATION ABOVE THE NEW GUY.]
I should go before he heals… Seeing me like this could put him out again. With your permission, Jesus, I go.
Yes Michael, as you have said. He’d at best go blind. Then he’d have to take the compressed class and be convinced of everything, told everything so abruptly the treatment is its own trauma.
I go that we may spare him this.
You don’t like him.
It wasn’t “human” you wanted to say. And I’m Jesus, for my sake. Christ is not his father, and he ain’t no rat for his father neither.
Was that an impression?
No, just a funny voice.
Is that what it was, Jesus? Or is the Lord taking up lying?
I hate you so very much, Michael! …But of course it’s not funny! We’re taking comedy meta, baby! We’ll be a small troupe and start in a cozy theater — I was wondering about Harlem, don’t say anything, but think about it, but it doesn’t matter so much because two years and pow! We have hit the heights and open on Broadway. Jesus is back, bitches! But we don’t use a certain theater, so-called, you know why and you know Jesus forgives, but the motherfucker does not fucking forget, right? …Imagine — Michael, look at me: Imagine elevating irony so much higher than it has ever been, than anyone — anyone but me and you Michael, ’cause let’s just agree we’re both completely in this. Right now. We put it all on the line and believe. In us, archangel. We begin by believing in us.
I’m alive for the paper paper paper Jesus. Michael doesn’t work a year anywhere in that shithole New York — not even Brooklyn — without getting paid. …And probably somehow scammed into giving your ass the money your idea isn’t making anyone. …Oh and apparently you think this archangel forgot the last time Jesus Christ burned him! I recall it was — while I was in the damn hospital for a scam you left me on the hook for! You’re a cold motherfuckin’ hustler Jesus. Last time, which broke this archcamel’s back, my brother, was that you did me like that, and you did it with a noob just across the tunnel. …Man, fuck working with Jesus Christopath!
[BOTH LAUGH, JESUS WITH HIS ARM ON MICHAEL’S SHOULDER]
Michael, you may be the only thing that gets me!
Samael seems to too.
Azrael? It’s like we’re the only ones who think death is hilarious. …Because he has to or how depressing? Me because “what’s hell to Hecuba? It to her?”
Thousands of times I’ve asked you not to use that word with me. We’re pushing it anyway — that guy is — Michael please… Have vanished so quickly and quietly my arm is still raised as I turn to look at a puff of smoke where you were. …So what am I leaning on?
[JESUS PRATFALLS. GIGGLES. TURNS ON HIS SIDE TO SEE THE NOOB ON THE GROUND ON HIS SIDE, LOOKING AT JESUS WITH AN EXPRESSION OF SO MANY EMOTIONS LET’S PRETEND “BEWILDERED” SUFFICES.]
Welcome to my father’s house Jonathan! Jesus! I mean I’m Jesus and great to meet visibly!
Nice to meet — what?
I wasn’t quite myself — or quite this exact self. I have to very quickly tell you your spirit is gonna want to stretch his… No legs. …Maybe just stretch after decades–
Going on a run for a century maybe two Hey Jesus! God is one!
Shit. …This one’s gonna be in repair for-freaking-ever. Happens when they’ve no damn imagination. [YELLING} And it doesn’t help when the Ghost is doing fifty miles an hour, screaming from a dead stop inside to outside! None of you let me explain! …Dicks!
[A SMILE SNEAKS ONTO JESUS’S FACE. SOON HE IS LAUGHING QUIETLY.]
Fuck that for being so hilarious. …Eventhough it terrifies them… The humans. The whole thing is an ordeal without piling on like this.
How do you really feel, Jesus. …This is a safe place. You can say anything.
I hate all of you! Oh spirit, his face!
I’ve missed you Jesus.
Bring it in light bulb!
So this is technically kinda masterbation, the son, the spirit holding each other close?
Azrael! How dull is that scythe on this day that will be years?
It’s just a wooden rod at this point. I have to beat them to death. …It’s been this way for maybe too long.
I… I like it now, Lord.
I told you being deferential gives you away! Sick-ass!
Only as sick as could be God, my father.
Where is he?
How can you not know?
Just say it Jesus. What the fuck are we for?
I didn’t know I couldn’t know. …But I do not know, Azrael. I don’t know!
What do we do? What does this mean? What will happen?
His absence is like a black hole consuming me from inside…
He must have wished he let Noah and all of it just fucking drown back then.
You will not say such things. God is one Azrael. I do not wish that.
God is all.
For now be silent. Especially don’t talk to those who already know.
Yeah, Peter is onto something. Or finally insane. Every single human, that man has had to listen politely to.
The humans we’ve been getting for a millennium make me miss the Pharisees! At least they knew the law! Didn’t understand it, but man conversation is what? without fucking weather to obsess about?
Fucking humans! I know!
[JESUS SITS ON THE FLOOR, LEGS CROSSED, HEAD IN HANDS, HIDDEN IN HIS LONG HAIR. SAMAEL/AZRAEL GLARES AT JONATHAN. JONATHAN SCREAMS AND PUSHES HIMSELF AWAY FROM THE ANGEL BEFORE FULLY CONSCIOUS.]
No. No it’s all much worse.