Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Warm as Toast

It’s taken all day but I’ve finally prompted the chronicler into action. She has a cold, poor thing, and claims she feels like death warmed up.

I’ll let you into a secret. Death isn’t cold. Not the angel, anyways. The act of death may well be – you might fall into a river or be discharged into space – but the Angel of Death is as warm as you or I – well, I, anyway.

I dated her sister one, Jedith, the Angel of Pestilence. She was pleasant enough company for a couple of hundred years but the relationship was doomed to failure. Can you imagine what people say about a demon and an angel? I tell you solemnly – you haven’t racism until you hear the vitriol spouted by the guys in white..

In summary: Death warmed up is hot to trot.


Stinking Billy said...

rachel, I do believe that if I keep reading your blog every day the positions of angels, demons and the like, will all slot into place. Just be sure to stay consistent - I would hate to be led up the garden path.

Leatherdykeuk said...

Thank you Billy.

I can't not be consistent - it's just the way it is.

aims said...

I certainly hope there is a special place in hell for rascists. Please tell me it is so.

Leatherdykeuk said...

Of course!
Where else would all the people go that thought Jesus was white?

stephanie said...

Ha! Brilliant!

Leatherdykeuk said...

Thank you :)