The Music Be The Food flash fiction event continues with round three. This time, the song is one of my all-time favorites, from prog metal master, Devin Townsend, called Kingdom. Give a listen to the tune and then read the next flash fiction piece, by Jack Wallen.
Thy Will Be Done
The Kingdom, his Kingdom shuddered. The uprising—a riot—had begun; and for what? A single edict; a change in policy, in point of matter, to finally bring a long-overdue measure of justice to the Heavens.
“This was necessary,” He whispered to Himself, His voice a fraction of its normal God-like bombasity. “They will fall in line, else be…” His voice trailed off, unsure of how to complete the thought. “Be what?”
There was no time to answer the question as the great door to the Hall of Hearing crashed open and the servant most loyal, Peter, marched over the threshold, golden cape flapping in his rushing wake.
Peter approached the gilded throne and subjugated himself by dropping to one knee.
“What is happening, my cherished one?” God spoke with a measure of unease.
“I bring you good news, my liege.” Peter stood. “At least I believe it to be.”
His most glorious jaw flexed under the weight of anticipation. Gods weren’t supposed feel anxiety, He thought. There is no Prozac strong enough for the likes of me. I wonder why I’ve come undone? He asked himself.
“My Lord most glorious,” Peter started nervously. “I have, waiting beyond your door, the first to be ruled under the new edict.”
The great God of all nodded once, sending Peter away to retrieve the first of Heaven’s denizens to fall prey to Thy Will. He wasn’t sold on the name of the new rule of law, but it had already been carved into the Stone of Moses and change was a slow-moving construct in the Land of Legion.
Peter returned to the Hall, pushing before him one of the elder statesmen of the Fat, White Angel clan. God tossed his mind into memory to recall the Angel’s name.
“Donald,” God spoke the word, a distaste for the man forming over His tongue.
Donald genuflected and crossed himself in the way of the good Catholic. God dismissed the gesture with a single wave of His hand. The Angel stood, daring impatience, as the Mighty One gave him the once- and twice-over. Peter stepped forward and handed God a tablet which held the charges filed against Donald.
And God read, from start to finish, the accusations held against the Angel Donald. When He finished, God offered the device back to Peter and said unto Donald, “You understand why you’re here?”
Donald shook his head and scratched at his right wing; a feather pulled from the flesh and delicately wafted to the cloud-strewn floor. “No, my God, I don’t.” The Angel spoke with a too-thick New York dialect.
“The rules of Heaven have changed,” God rumbled.
“O-okay,” Donald stuttered. “I know, I missed it…the point, I mean. Sure, you changed some of the rules here in Heaven, but you can’t think someone who’s been around as long as I would be so inclined as to follow these…”
God cleared his throat.
“…changes,” the Angel gulped.
The Mighty One sighed a most holy breath. “I have ruled My Kingdom for eons. In the beginning there was but one rule, Do unto others as thou wouldst have done unto thee. Over time, I realized my creations couldn’t seem to wrap their minds around that very clear law; and so I made change. But as I have given humankind free will, they have seen to it to change in ways I could not have foreseen. And so, I have, over the years, had to alter the laws of Heaven.”
Donald sucked in a gasp of air and clacked his teeth together. “But everything was already perfect.”
God leaned in close enough that Donald could catch a whiff of his perfect scent. “Was it, Donald? Was it perfect when I have had to hear complaint after complaint of your womanizing, lecherous behavior?”
Donald laughed. “Oh come on, God! That’s just the old ways; you know this. I grew up in a period of time when it was okay to grab a woman and show them their place.”
“Oh?” God sat back in His throne. “And what place is that?”
A great grin spread wide across the Angel Donald’s face. “To please me.”
“Stay with me, Lord. Hear me out.”
God steepled his fingers and nodded with a knowing smile. “I give you the floor.”
“I was a good man. I went to Church every Sunday, gave my ten percent, even paid for the reconstruction of our priest’s house when the bank refused to foot the bill. I paid my dues, God. So…when I died, I was granted passage through the Gates of Glory to enjoy the Heaven befitting my desire.”
The Almighty unleashed a bellowing laugh. “Is that how you believe this to work?”
Donald nodded. “I do.”
“I should have seen where this was headed,” God whispered. He stood from his throne and approached Donald. “Tell me then, how do I justify your behavior to the women who have paid their dues to live an eternity in Paradise? Would you have them live forever as your concubines?”
Donald nodded with a laugh. “If they’re hot, sure.”
“Down and down your truth descended!” God’s voice rattled the walls of the Hall of Hearing. “What if I turned the tables and forced you into the servitude of the women you shamed, abused, and…”
The Angel Donald held his hands before him, this time not in the act of prayer. “Now hold on one damn minute, God.”
Peter slowly backed away.
“I never abused one woman; not one.” Donald rebuffed.
“Shall I bring a few of the females from your mortal existence in to testify on your behalf?”
“Don’t get me wrong, Your Holiness, I am forever indebted to you; but I paid the mortal price for a ticket to Heaven.”
God returned to His throne, sat, and folded his arms. “And your ticket has been revoked. I have found you incapable of complying with the new rule of Paradise. Your inability to evolve in accordance to a more compassionate and inclusive Heaven, renders you unfit to continue as an Angel in my Army. Therefore, I revoke your wings and cast you into the Infinite Void.”
The Almighty snapped His fingers and two gilded guards appeared, one on each side of Donald.
“You can’t do this,” the Angel snapped.
And God did laugh. “Oh, but I can. Remove his wings and banish him.”
The guards dragged Donald from the Hall of Hearing; all the while, the fallen one sent forbidden epithets into the air. Peter made his way back to God’s side as the Holiest of Holies sighed. “I’m terribly sorry, my Liege and Lord.”
“How many more of these am I to deal with, Peter?”
Peter scrolled through the page on his tablet and huffed. “You don’t want to know, God.”
Mr. Glory rubbed palms to face, His shoulders slumping steeply. “Send in the next subject.”
Peter nodded. “Thy will be done.”
Alone, the Power stood from His throne and made His way to a shimmering glass mirror. Upon gazing at His perfect visage, He said, “God, give me the strength.” With a laugh, God ran fingers through His perfect coif and returned the golden throne to await the next Angel to be judged.