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The Final Judgement - Chapter Two

May 14 2007, 12:08 AM (Post #1)
Well why can't we do the shuffle?!
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Allow me, at this moment, to explain to you something that I find to be of great Yes, fashion. As I stood there, like I have done many times in my life, in front of a great selection of shirts and pants of all different sizes and colors, I have learned a great many things about them. One cannot help but do so, with all of this experience and having a friend who is a pre-madonna down to the very core. Alright, so he can't help it. As I've said before, he enjoys looking good for the women in the area. I will touch up on all the various styles.

There is the preppy look. Now, for shirts, the preppy look can extend to a great many styles. Take, for instance, a flannel shirt. Now, this kind of shirt can only be preppy if it is a hawaiian style shirt. Furthermore, any shirt with hawaiian type designs or advertising some sort of alcoholic product (beer) is considered preppy, unless it's a which case you would be a backwoods hick. I'm not saying that's a bad thing either.

Of course, with flannel t-shirts, you could always go for that preppy, farmer boy look. To do this, the colors on the shirt must be in variations of blue or green, or maybe light red, and the shirt must be checkered. If you get a solid colored, red flannel shirt with checkers then you'll be farmer brown.

Tim prefered the kind of button down shirts that were almost flannel, but had some sort of strange design on them. These shirts are usually in variations of black, red, silver and grey. This portrayed a preppy, "tough guy" look that some women like and others don't, particularly college girls who seek either the direct type (solid colors), preppy-Jesus (combinations of shorts with preppy shirts and sandals), or the neutral type (t-shirts of various colors with jeans). I would be the neutral type myself, however, I always buy band t-shirts to express my tastes in music that are irrelevant at this point.

What I always found interesting, and I would sometimes wear these myself, are these t-shirts made out of thicker material. Sometimes these shirts would also have three buttons near the neck and two buttons to hold down a tie (the reason for this is uncertain, no professional would ever wear a short-sleeved shirt with a tie). In case of a prep, if you were to wear this shirt you would pop the collar. In any other case, you wouldn't. These shirts can be worn by the clean-cut or by the extremely hairy/hippy type. In the later case, I call that style the "Kiro".

So, why was all of this relevant? Well, because I had to explain to you what the "Kiro" was because I named it after a friend, whom you will be meeting later, and because I was stuck at a department store with my blonde headed pre-madonna.

"You think this looks good?" Asked Tim, holding up a blue, preppy flannel.
I studied it carefully and replied, "Go for the orange."
He cocked his head and looked back at the shirt, "Really? Orange?"
"Yes, orange. I mean, you see those blue ones everywhere these days. Why not an orange? It looks good and it's rare."
"Hmm," he said, "good point."

Given that point, he placed the orange, preppy flannel inside of the cart along with four other flannels, three thick t's/kiro's, and two preppy hawaiians. He also had two pairs of hawaiian swimming trunks, four pairs of basketball, silk shorts, two silk shirts (which should only be worn if you're an obsessive body builder, in my opinion), and a package of "wife-beaters" (muscle shirts that can be worn by the muscular or the fat, drunkards in the area, hence the name).

"Are you done, yet?" I asked him.
"Good looks take time, my good friend." He looked around, "Are you sure you don't want anything?"
"No good band t's here." I replied.

And with that point, we moved on to the check-out lane and we met an odd looking red head. She had a depressed demeanor about her and moved slower than molasses on a walker, if molasses ever made use of one of these things, I would be happy to see it.


I found Brian (Kiro) in his study, as usual, reading some sort of novel I didn't recognize. His study was vast, piled with book after book by many famous authors and many authors who were not famous at all. The room was dark, save for the small lamp that Brian used to read with at his desk. The only thing I liked about the room was his swivel chair, in which he leaned back in and rubbed his beard whenever he was contemplating something.

"What are you doing today, Brian?" I asked him.
Leaning back in his chair and rubbing his beard, he replied "Contemplating the Universe. Care to join?"
"As per usual, I'll pass."
He frowned, "Suit yourself, I suppose."
I thought for a minute, "Actually, what was it about the Universe you were contemplating?"
He raised an eyebrow, "Why do you ask now?"
"With the recent events that have taken place in the world, I figured that maybe I should look into something like that."
"Well," he said, "I was studying the Astral Plane."
I could feel a blank expression coming across my face, "The astra-wha?"
He chuckled, "The Astral Plane. It's the place where your soul sometimes travels to while your asleep. It's when you have those dreams that feel extremely realistic, almost like you're actually living them. Well, you would be actually living them if you believe in the Astral Plane."
"Do you believe in it?"
"I suppose so," he said, rubbing his beard, "I have no reason not to."
"So...where is this...Astral Plane?"
"Hmm?" He said, "It's all around you. It's among us, we just cannot see it in our physical forms. It cannot effect us while we're in our physical forms as well."
"Interesting..." I said, "Would you know if your spirit was effecting the plane while you were in your physical form?"
"I'm not sure," he remarked, "however, it may be impossible."
"I I could be leading a double life?"
He laughed again, "Amazing, isn't it? We all lead double lives."

He stood up, then, and he walked behind me and turned on the light switch that was near the entryway. Brian was a good sized man, just under six feet tall with long hair and a big beard. He had arms the size of tree-trunks, and he wasn't afraid to use them if he had to.

He smiled, "So, what brings you here today, Michael?"
I thought for a moment, almost forgetting exactly why I went there in the first place, but remembered, "I had a dream."
He cocked his head, "What, praytell, did you have a dream about?"
"I had a dream a couple nights ago that seemed so strange and so real."
He looked startled, "An Astral dream?"
"It may have been...I'm not really sure."
He looked eager, "Continue."
"Well," I explained, "I was dreaming that trouble was coming my way. I stood there, or rather my soul stood there and saw the coming of an arch-angel."
He rubbed his beard again, "An arch-angel, you say?"
"Yes, an arch-angel. He told me that he would be happy if, since it was dangerous to keep living here on earth, I came with him to heaven."
"How would you get into heaven?"
"He told me I had automatic admitance."
He started pacing the room for a while, thinking really hard while still rubbing his beard. I said he does that alot. He then stopped and looked at me with great interest, "I don't know much about this..." He admitted, "but what I do know is...well, you're not going to like what I know."

"What do you know?"
"Well," he explained, "from what I have read about this sort of thing you were technically..."
" were dead."
"Dead?" Asked Tim in astonishment.
"Yes, you heard me, dead."
"Hmph." He said as he crossed his arms and sneered, "You can't believe anything that dumb fool says."

Now, I've had this argument with Tim before. Brian was definitely not a "dumb fool" as Tim puts it. Given all of those tomes that he gets from only God knows where, I'd say he has the knowledge of at least two-thousand years worth of work crammed into his brain. A fool, he was not. However, since I have had this argument before and I have deduced that Tim just doesn't like Brian and Brian definitely doesn't like Tim, I decided not to press it.

"Well, alot of people have reported that, Tim. They say that they saw an angel, say, in the hospital, and at that moment they were technically dead."
He snorted, "According to whom?"
"Doctors, nurses, monitors...fools like that."
"Ha!" He exclaimed as he went across my room to scope out my video game selection for the thousandth time today.

"Hmm..." He said.
"I've got a way we can prove him wrong." He said, turning towards me.
"How do you plan on doing that?"
"There's monitors, tests and machines that can tell you if your heart stopped at any point, like you had a heartattack."
"Hmm, thats true."
"Yes," he said, nearly laughing, "we can prove that fool wrong after all. If you really died, then your heart must have stopped."

So, we went and got that taken care of at the local hospital, and they said they would call us back in about two days. I occupied myself during these two days by goofing off and participating in random fol-de-rol, yet Tim always seemed to be very attentive to every phone call we got. Well, of course we finally recieved the phone call. I picked up the phone, exchanged a few words with the doctor, hung up and gave myself time to digest the information. This is about the time Tim came up to me to hear the results.

"Well?" He asked.
I swollowed, "I'm dead."
Tim looked down at the ground. I don't know if it was in disbelief or in dissapointment at his inaccuracies about the intelligence level of Brian, but none of that really mattered at the time.

I would, indeed, need more time to digest this information.

I found myself, again, in a prediciment where I didn't know if I was sleeping or if I was awake. I tried to move out of bed, and at first it was hard, and then it became easy. I stood up, breathed in some air, and realized that I wasn't alone. There was someone, or something, outside of my doorway. They were pounding on my door and making obscene noises that I couldn't understand. For some reason they were having trouble getting the door open. That's when I saw him come down and realized that he was using his energy to keep the door shut.

"What are you doing here again?" I asked him.
He turned to me and spoke, "You have got to get out of here. Follow me to Heaven, you will be safe there."
I shook my head, "No, I can't. Whatever it is, I can take it."
He flushed with anger, "Listen, you fool! I am an arch-angel and I can barely hold it back. What can you do?"

But by the time his point sunk in it was too late. My doorway smashed open and the arch-angel was taken aback. It stepped forward out of the shadows to reveal itself. A greusome sight it was, standing at about eight feet tall. It was a hulking brute with the face of a bull, complete with two horns. He had huge arms and legs and carried a large battle-axe. It pointed towards me and started making its march forward. Before he could reach me, however, the arch-angel intercepted him.

The creature swung at the arch-angel and missed, as the arch-angel ducked, sliced at the demon, and I got my ass out of the way. The arch-angel circled around the demon, watching very carefully and trying to keep his distance from it. The demon swung again, stopped in midswing and hammered the arch-angel in the head, knocking him down.

"Time to die." It said, boldly.

So I walked up to the angel, grabbed the angel's dagger that he had at his side, and shoved it in the demon's eye before he even knew what was going on. The demon started to fall down and convulse, and that's when the arch-angel smiled at me and took its head off with his two-handed sword. It's amazing what you can do in the Astral Plane.

"Welcome to Hell." Said the arch-angel.

Well...that made alot of sense.

This post has been edited by Nesticles: May 14 2007, 12:10 AM
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