Written with my Thursday night group with the prompts: Angels don’t have to eat but Gabriel likes it, he missed tasting food, it looked impossible, my first reaction, or
“It looks impossible,” Gabriel admitted, “but remember,” he added, pausing for effect, “impossible is my bread and butter.”
Rafael winced at his colleague. It always came down to food with Gabriel. Rafael felt food was an unnecessary indulgence. After all, angels don’t need to eat, but Gabriel liked it. Whenever Rafael joined him on an earthly assignment, Gabriel insisted they stop off at Zelda’s Pizza or Gunther’s Ice Cream. Rafael had to concede that he missed tasting food on occasion, but he didn’t let it distract him from the work at hand. “No time for Zelda’s,” he told Gabriel sternly. “There’s a line out the door, and what’s more, they’re still smoking in the bar. That’s a violation of city ordinance.”
“Be grateful we weren’t sent to Beijing,” Gabriel said. “They smoke like chimneys on every street corner and restaurant. Here there’s just a few mavericks. Besides we could jump the queue! These mortals won’t even notice—”
“Gabriel.” Rafael affected a deep James Earl Jones voice to sound ominous rather than scolding. “We could deliver our message, re-direct the energy and be back in the ether in time for choir practice.”
“Or,” Gabriel proposed, “we could head over to this really great donut shop I know!” And then Rafael surrendered at the thought of a chocolate old-fashioned.
Later as they hovered above the planet, directing invisible rays of light between the White House and the California Governor’s Mansion and through to the Kremlin and over to North Korea and down to the Sudan, they molded the waves to modulate with those emanating from the home of an elderly woman making a chocolate cake with avocados and cocoa powder.
“Do you see her energy? It’s the purest on the planet,” Rafael declared.
“My first reaction,” Gabriel admitted, “was to notice the chocolate. It will save the Earth.”