november jive

I had breakfast at midnight last night. Had a slice of sponge cake and a glass of miracle juice. It knocked me down into the hole where angels hide their root vegetables so other angels don't find them. Hey, have you ever see angels fight? They use their wings as weapons. Wait, you don't think that angels duke it out? What stories have they been telling you? Angels fight. Usually about whose stuff is whose. Like their root vegetables and shiny gems and they like to say "that cloud is mine" and the other will say "no it's mine". Then they throw in and battle with wings as weapons. No one ever gets hurt of course. The battles disappoint the Lord. But mostly he finds them slightly annoying. On rare occasions, he'll smote an angel. Just turn it to burnt feathers. Painless. The most kosher death a deathless being can endure. Mostly the Lord is busy. Busy doing nothing apparently. He's like a big teen laying about. A big gorgeous lazy bearded man sprawled out on a big orange corduroy couch. He exists more or less. Often less. Sometimes more. He wears shorts and has pretty much hairless thighs. Like you'd expect.