DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.

Dunkin Donuts X

There I something about being the boss scares me but turns me on at the same time.  When I watch Hitler, it scares the crap out of me: him being in black and white newscasts, hundreds of his soldiers pacing at the beat of a drum that pulses deep into the Earth’s core.  After reading The Diary of Anne Frank, I have come to think of Anne Frank as the boss of the literary world, since her every word has been read, to the point where her publication compares with The Holy Bible.  Sure, these two people are the boss to a certain degree but put them together and opposites definitely don’t attract.  My point?  That just because someone is the boss doesn’t mean they are in charge.

The song lyrics “I’ll do anything you say anything cuz you the boss”  resonated through my head as I sat at my usual spot in Dunkin Donuts by the red line:  the table in the back where a draft of wind leaked through the window, where I sat in a corner, scribbling pictures of Christmas trees in my notebook.  Christmas was just around the corner and I was starting winter vacation in only a few days.  I had told my mom that I wanted a new computer for Christmas, but who knew if she bought it for me, if she had the money.  I was a big sister in a middle-class family of six, in a situation where I was too young to buy presents but at the age where cards where an option.  In each of my cards, to Gracie Mike and Claudia I had put in the envelope a certificate for:  a free chore redemption, a free homework redemption (Mike was struggling in Algebra I and I was already in Calculus), and a free babysitting redemption (for Claudia, the oldest).  I wasn’t expecting anything in return from my siblings (besides gratitude), but I was expecting at least something from my parents.  At the dawning of a daydream of waking up on Christmas morning to a Mac Book Pro waiting under the tree, he walked in.

“Sup,” the male with short black hair asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down in front of me.

“Who are you,” I asked, shutting my decomposition book. 

He stuck out his arm so that his left hand was in front of my right. 

“The name is Gabriel,” he said.

Another one of them, I thought.

“So, are an angel or something?  These people with red eyes keep on coming up to me and I don’t know what to say,” I said sticking out me right hand and taking in his warm yet clammy hand.  

“Yep, we are angels, on the lookout for recruits.  You are our number one prospect of the moment,” he said, swiping his hair out of his eyes.”

“So…does that mean I am going to die soon?”  I asked, the bells jingling with the opening of the door. 

“I don’t want to die.”

Gabriel leaned backwards and laughed.  “No, hon,” he said.  “Well…in a sense, yeah, but not for a while.  Hopefully.  One of the rules is that we can’t mess with the natural flow of things.  What usually happens, is that we say hello, introduce ourselves, and then disappear for however long your life persists.  It’s important to let a prospect know that we are interested early, so that we can check in on you.  But when we check in, we do so as people you don’t recognize.  It’s a very complicated process.”

Gabriel looked at me and smiled.  He had two dimples on his left cheek and his eyes were blood shot red.

“Why are your eyes red?” I asked him.

“They get red when I get aggravated,” he said, running his hand through his hair.  “our proposal was denied.”

“What proposal?”  I asked.

“All the Arcs wanted to be able to hide the secret Gospel written by Jesus, to be found, however long it may take.”

I didn’t know what to say. 

“Wow, that is kind of crazy,” I said.  “What would it say?  Who would find it?”

“That’s the thing, it wouldn’t’ really have been written by Jesus, but if we plant it somewhere, more people would believe in Jesus.  But since he is dead, it would have to come from God the Father, and Jesus, combined.  So, our proposal was denied, because we aren’t allowed to see God in that kind of way.

For a second, a truck’s horn interrupted our conversation.

“Not even me and Mike, or my sister Gabriella. No one.”

Gabriel took my decomposition book from me and pulled a pen out of his messenger bag.  He flipped through it, looking at my sketches.  He sat and sketched for a minute while I peered over, trying to figure out what he was drawing.

“No angel in existence has even seen God.  It’s not only not allowed- it’s impossible.

He slid back my notebook in front of me.  In it was a sketch of a valley with hills surrounding it.  The sun was setting, yet the stars where out, some bigger than the others. 

“Lesson number ten as an angel,” he said.  “Never expect the impossible.”

He looked down at his watch.

“Well, got to go,” he said.  “Merry Christmas.”

He got up, looking down at me with blushing cheeks.  I didn’t know why he was blushing, and I didn’t want to ask.  “

Sometimes my cheeks turn red when I feel a rush of emotion,” he said.  “By the way, you are a good artist.  We could use someone like you in the fifth dimension.”

I didn’t know what to say. 

“Uhh…ok,” I said.  He walked out the door, and I took a bite out of my donut.  I flipped to the drawing that Gabriel had drawn of the valley, and then to the next page.  It was the same thing another angel had drawn before:  three crosses, the one in the middle the biggest.  They glowed like they were stars.  Were they supposed to be crosses, or stars?  I thought to myself. 

Whoever was in the middle, must have been the boss.

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.