Morpethroad

This week’s words: Month Revile Laquer Necrosis Medusa Sorry Chrysalism (n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly.) Impregnate Light Sparse Photo Panel

It was once again the end of the month and Greg, the angel of God and Wayne the Devil’s advocate met for their monthly divvying of souls.

Each moth they met in the venue of the other’s choosing. This time is was Greg’s choice and he had chosen Bertha’s Slow Casserole Emporium as the slow cooked casserole was Heaven’s signature dish and Greg always felt the need to promote everything he could about the Heavenly venue even if it was the slow cooked casserole.

This month though Wayne aware of hat Greg was on about decided to bring his own ham sandwiches which he knew would irritate Greg as Greg privately lusted after a hells own ham sandwich.

They had a list in front of them and Wayne read the names. He would begin with those on the reviled list: Jones the Butcher, Smith the chatterbox, Barber the axe murderer and so the list went on with the entities aying and naying the names.

They stopped every so often to check if anything could be lacquered over a soul to make a reviled more acceptable than he or she might be. Usually it was too much bother. In past millennia God had a panel of entities to deal with the earthly souls but He found humans such a disagreeable lot forever wanting to argue with him that He decided it was too much and so chose a panel of two, Wayne and Greg were given the job with God deciding their word would be final.

Greg held up a photo of the dying Charles Majors. It was clear necrosis was a matter of minutes away and he was in human terms a very sorry sight as his body wasted away before the eyes of his family. It would be a welcome release for Majors to embrace necrosis sooner rather than later.

Not wanting to make light of the situation Wayne suggested the impregnate Majors with a bit of divine impetus to bring about his demise. There were some very sick people who refused to die and with a little nudging from either Wayne or Greg their end came about. This measure was used when both entities had a date at their favourite restaurant, the Slow Cooked Ham Sanger which surprisingly catered for the tastes of both entities. It was the flip of a coin that usually decided the mode of death and a quick quiz for the bewildered soul of the deceased person. Ham or casserole?

Medusa Sullivan had been an interesting case. She always had a solidifying effect on most men but with parents with a bizarre sense of humour Medusa’s end had come upon her end rather quickly. She was enjoying a very chrysalistic experience during the biggest storm to hit her house in living memory. She loved a good thunderstorm and they had been very sparse in their occurrence of late and when one came her way she was quick to go into her chrysalistic pose and mindset.

Oblivious to the ferocity of the storm she was unaware that as she sat her in self imposed tranquillity the roof of the house came crashing down bringing about her demise.

Wayne looked at Greg, his demonic stomach was rumbling by this stage such was his hunger and Greg was hearing it and longing to get a ham sandwich into his angelic self. Needless to say Wayne would avoid the slow cooked casserole like the plague, he had his heart set on sushi, the best in all the universe,

Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2016/04/04/wordle-10-april-4th-2016/