No one can say how it started, but every thousand years all the heavenly hosts hold their conventions. Angels, cherubs, cherubims, and seraphs have their convention while gargoyles, grotesques, griffins, and dragons have a separate convention. This pleases the angels who find gargoyles to be rather grotesque. The gargoyles preferred it since they find the angels to be, well, flighty. But St. Peter was about to change all that.
He summoned the Archangel Michael, head of all the hosts called angels and La Gargouille, recently promoted to Archangel, head of all the hosts called gargoyles to his office.
Immediately upon entering St. Peter’s office, Michael cried in a booming voice, “Oh hail St. Peter, Keeper of the Keys of Heaven, First Pope, Head of the Church…”
Not to be outdone La Gargouille responded with his own greetings, “Hail St. Peter, Rock of the Church, Keeper of the Book of Life, Right-hand of Jesus and…”
ST. Peter cut them off, “Shut up and sit down!” His stern look compelled the two Archangels to obey. Michael sat in mid-air, hovering effortlessly, and crossed his legs.
La Gargouille folded his great tail into the shape of a bench and sat on it. From under a membranous wing he produced a pipe, and ignited it with a snort from his slender snout.
St Peter stared at his subordinates for a minute, waved away the stinky smoke, and finally said, “You two get on my nerves.”
“What have we done?” they asked.
“Never mind! I called you here to discuss your plans for your respective conventions.”
Michael and La Gargouille looked at each other with surprise. Why would St. Peter concern himself with something they had been doing for millennium?
Peter pronounced, “There is not going to be two conventions this year, only one-a combined convention.”
“What?” cried Michael. “We always have two conventions.”
“Not this time!”
“But why?” asked La Gargouille.
Peter stood up and leaning forward on his desk said, “I have my reasons. You always manage to cause trouble.”
“What did we do to cause trouble?” asked La Gargouille, stretching his long, reptilian neck.
Peter leveled a finger at him and said, “It was your idea, in fact, to have a canal digging contest on Mars. Great idea except you forgot to fill them in. You cannot believe all the problems that caused since. People actually believed there was life on Mars.”
Michael began to chuckle.
Peter transfixed his gaze toward him, “And you had to see how many angels could fit on the head of a pin. That caused an endless and pointless debate.”
Michael was so startled that he stopped flapping his wings and collapsed to the floor with a thud. Now La Gargouille was giggling, and blew a puff of smoke toward Michael.
Peter continued, “You think that was funny? Well, no fun and games this time. You will have a joint convention, and you will work together on several issues.”
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