038: That Show About Heaven and Hell
You're drunk, and you're rambling. "Y'know, angels don't see grey areas," you say. "They're blinded by light."
"Oh yeah?" I look over at you. We've just finished a season of—that thing—that show about heaven and hell and I don't remember the name but you're staring at the screen as though it's revealed the greatest of all secrets.
"Yeah," you say. "Angels are supposed to be absolutely good, but only towards everything else that's absolutely good." You gesture vaguely, but I'm not sure what the gesture's supposed to mean. "Everything that's not absolutely good is bad, so there's demons. They're not blinded by light and can see the grey areas."
I'm not sure if it makes sense to me, but I still nod.
"But ..." You frown, and it's clear it's an effort to think coherently. "Demons are angels who fell." You mark the point with a finger. "Heaven's up there." You raise another finger at the same time as you gesture to the roof. "We're used to thinking in greys." A third finger. "Are we fallen angels?" Fourth finger.
I sink against the back of the sofa, now staring at the screen too. "That's deep, dude."
For a while it's quiet. Eventually, I become aware of a package of Custard Cremes we've forgotten about. With some effort I stretch my leg out to poke the package with my toes. It sends the package rolling onto the floor. I make a face and look at you. "Biscuits?"
You start snoring.
Written by: Katrine H.
"Oh yeah?" I look over at you. We've just finished a season of—that thing—that show about heaven and hell and I don't remember the name but you're staring at the screen as though it's revealed the greatest of all secrets.
"Yeah," you say. "Angels are supposed to be absolutely good, but only towards everything else that's absolutely good." You gesture vaguely, but I'm not sure what the gesture's supposed to mean. "Everything that's not absolutely good is bad, so there's demons. They're not blinded by light and can see the grey areas."
I'm not sure if it makes sense to me, but I still nod.
"But ..." You frown, and it's clear it's an effort to think coherently. "Demons are angels who fell." You mark the point with a finger. "Heaven's up there." You raise another finger at the same time as you gesture to the roof. "We're used to thinking in greys." A third finger. "Are we fallen angels?" Fourth finger.
I sink against the back of the sofa, now staring at the screen too. "That's deep, dude."
For a while it's quiet. Eventually, I become aware of a package of Custard Cremes we've forgotten about. With some effort I stretch my leg out to poke the package with my toes. It sends the package rolling onto the floor. I make a face and look at you. "Biscuits?"
You start snoring.
Written by: Katrine H.
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