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An Angel of God Meets an Asshole

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Ray is about to be 'touched by an angel.'
It won't be pleasant.

~~*~~
“Right down the hall, third Door on the left,” chirped Betty as Calliel closed the door behind him.
He gave her a quick smile and made his way to the hallway, turning right. He got to my office door, which was closed (it was supposed to be open while I was in it, per university dictates, but I’d refused to comply), and promptly gave it a couple strong knocks.
I remember those knocks. I remember them surprising me. Students’ knocks were much softer and meeker; and most of my colleagues never bothered talking to me one on one, choosing to do so only at staff meetings and the like.
I heard myself say, “Yes?” I could hear the irritation in my voice, and wondered if Calliel did, too.
He opened the door.
I was seated at my desk, reading glasses halfway down my nose. I wasn’t looking at homework or planning a lecture; I was going through my bank statement. I was sure there was an error (there wasn’t). I stared up.
“Dr. Wilms?”
“Yes?” I said again. The impatience suffusing that word made me squirm.
“Do you have a minute, sir? I need to speak to you.”
Sir? He actually addressed me as sir? Why don’t I remember that?
He took a couple steps in. I didn’t stand and offer him a seat; I didn’t ask his name; I didn’t shake his hand; I didn’t turn in my swivel chair to let him know I was going to give him my full attention. I just kept staring up at him.
“What can I do for you?” I asked. It was obvious I wanted to do nothing for him.
I waited, more important pen in hand.
I stared down at me, embarrassed and ashamed. “You sad little fuckhead,” I said. “Look at you.”
Calliel went to close the door, but the great Dr. Wilms stopped him. “Please leave it open.”
“What I have to say you might want to hear in private,” Calliel offered.
“Leave it open.”
I had judged this man top to bottom within the first five seconds of seeing him. Calliel looked like a hick in that white button-down shirt with the silly blue snap buttons and the denim jeans and shitkickers. A dumb, dumb hick. He probably hadn’t even graduated high school. Was he a parent of a student? Was he some salesman, someone trying to get my vote, what?
He glanced left out the door, then back at me. He set himself. He seemed to root down like a redwood right there in my tiny office.
“All right,” he said, very seriously. “Dr. Wilms … your life is nearly over.”
I grimaced without blinking.
I had honed that grimace over many years to deliver a full fatal dose of disdain and contempt. I was as proud of its effect as I was anything. People did not screw with Dr. Ray Wilms.
Looking at it now, I did not feel cowed. I felt nauseating shame and even pity.
I stood and pushed my reading glasses into my head. Usually that was the cue for everyone in the immediate area to dive for cover.
Calliel didn’t waver. I remember thinking that he had to be a zealot or simply too ignorant to know the danger signs.
“What did you say to me?” I demanded. I blinked with practiced gravitas, waiting.
“You’re going to die soon,” he said gently. He was trying to keep his voice down. “There’s no point dancin’ around the bush. You’re life is almost over. I was sent to save you.”
Yep. A zealot. Worse: a lunatic.
“Get out,” I ordered.
Calliel didn’t move.
“Get out or I’ll call the campus police.”
A redwood. That’s what he was that moment.
I reached for the phone. “Have it your way,” I said.
I dialed as he watched me. He crossed his arms.
Shame and pity. That’s all I could feel watching me say, “Yes. This is Dr. Wilms in the Mathematics Department. I have an intruder in my office. Please come here at once. Dr. Wilms, yes. Please hurry. Thank you.”
I hung up.
“Get out,” I repeated with more volume.
Calliel said nothing.
“Get out!” I yelled. I remember being shaken by his silence. “Out! Out!”
“We can do this the easy way,” said Calliel with that same gentle-but-very-serious tone, “or we can do it the hard way. Truth tell, I’m hopin’ you choose the hard way. I like a challenge.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” I bellowed. My face had gone the same plum hue it did when I humiliated the customer service agent at the cable company. Floating over his shoulder, watching me (and scarcely able to), I cried: “Who the hell do you think you are, you fucking idiot? Jesus H. Christ! This is a goddamn angel sent to save your sorry ass! Listen! Listen!
“My name is Calliel. I was sent by God to save you before you died.”
The great Dr. Wilms stared at him like he was violently insane. Calliel had dug himself the deepest possible hole by being honest. It occurred to me that he had also taken the best possible strategy by doing so. Don’t fuck around: tear the patient’s shirt off and crank the voltage to maximum and let the sparks fly. Two percent demanded nothing less.
“Betty! BETTY! Get in here! I’ve got a lunatic in my office! BETTY! ANYBODY! ANYBODY!
Betty showed up in a breathless rush. “Good gracious!What in the world is going on?”
She stared at Calliel, who smiled over his shoulder at her.
The city, not campus, police arrived seconds later. Two officers, a man and a woman.
“Arrest this man!” I shrieked. “He’s a dangerous lunatic! Arrest him!
Several more of the staff showed up. They watched, wide-eyed, over the cops’ shoulders.
“What’s going on?” demanded the woman cop.
“Best arrest me,” Calliel told her, “because I’m not done with this man by a damn sight.”
Floating over his shoulder, I shuddered. He wasn’t.
The great Dr. Wilms blew a gasket.
THREATS! HE JUST THREATENED ME! I WANT THIS MAN CHARGED WITH MENACING! MENACING!
They cuffed Calliel and led him out. He offered no resistance.
I wasn’t done shrieking.
“PUT HIM AWAY AND THROW AWAY THE KEY! PEOPLE LIKE HIM SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED IN SOCIETY! GET HELP, YOU SICK ASSHOLE! YOU NEED HELP! DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU NEED HELP!”
I did indeed.

~~*~~

Coming soon!
~~*~~
Thank you for reading!


This post first appeared on The Pier To Forever, please read the originial post: here

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An Angel of God Meets an Asshole

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